What the Future May Hold
by ak-stinger
Summary: MPREG, AL SLASH. A sequel to What Love Brought Into Being. The past threatens the future for Legolas, Aragorn, and their children especially young Eldarion.
1. The eyes of a child

**MPREG, MPREG, MPREG!** This story features **MPREG**! You might **HATE** this kind of story; that is certainly your right (there are types of stories out there that I'm not particularly fond of either). If that is the case, your computer comes with this handy little thing called a **BACK BUTTON**, which will assist you in your **NOT READING** this. I don't need e-mails from anyone suggesting that I need **BIOLOGY LESSONS** (they've been taken and I got A's, thank you). Men can't get pregnant in real life, but this **ISN'T REAL LIFE** (hence the name fan _fiction_). And since it's safe to assume that none of you are God, you don't have the information or right to judge me as **IMMORAL**. I'm posting this story; it's entirely **YOUR DECISION** whether or not you actually read it. If someone is making you read this against your will, hatch an **ESCAPE PLAN**; and remember that I won't be so inclined to help you out with that if you flame me.

_Title_: What the Future May Hold

_Author_: ak-stinger

_Disclaimer_: I own nothing outright except for my DVD collection, a fish, a hamster, and a kitten; and three of those things cost me money instead of making it for me. Needless to say, I don't own anything associated with The Lord of the Rings except for my copies of the books and DVD's. Heck, if you have information that says that I'm somehow a part of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate or Peter Jackson et al, let me know.

_Rating_: M (to be on the safe side)

_Summary_: Almost thirteen years have passed since the end of _What Love Brought Into Being_ and Aragorn and Legolas' family has grown. Now their eldest child, son Eldarion, stands between his childhood and the responsibilities of adulthood that loom ahead as his thirteenth birthday draws near. When a threat from the past threatens the future, how will he respond? Will Legolas, Aragorn, and their family and friends be able to sort through the confusion and clues before it's too late?

_Warnings_: **MPREG** (if this shocks and/or disgusts you in any way, please scroll up and read that first paragraph). **SLASH** (of the Aragorn/Legolas variety). **AU** (Aragorn and Legolas are happily married and Arwen never existed). **CHILD ENDANGERMENT** (in later chapters). If something listed here is unacceptable to you, please do us both a favor and hit the back button now.

_Feedback_: I welcome positive feedback, be it praise or constructive criticism. Actually, I really enjoy getting reviews; but I promise that I won't beg for them or threaten not to post chapters until I get a certain number of them. Flames, however, are not welcome at all – I will delete them from my e-mail immediately and from my story's review history if possible. If you dislike my story so much that you don't plan on reading any more of it, that's fine; but save the energy it would take to let me know just what you're planning because, really, if you're not going to read the story I don't care what you think. I will think, though, that you're a pathetic, clueless moron.

_A/N_: The more familiar characters – Legolas, Aragorn, and the like – will be showing up, for the most part, in the next chapter and they'll be main characters. I just wanted to establish how much time had passed and the new relationships between the children before plunging in.

_And now the saga continues with…the story!_

The long branches that surrounded the young but valiant – _'no, make that most fearless _ever_' _– warrior were, in his mind, both a curse and a blessing. They did the job of cloaking him from unfriendly eyes but also got in his way. Every time he had to move one of them out of his line of vision to assess the situation before him, their creaks and wisps echoed horribly in his pointed ears. If he was to be heard before he could carry out his mission…. He fingered the trusty sword at his side and resolutely shook his head. He would not fail; not when _she_ was depending on him.

Moving one particularly leafy tree limb, he was able to see them once again: the beautiful maiden, her jester, and the terrible creature that was holding them captive. He silently commended the maiden for the impeccable control she had over her fear; she'd always been a brave person, of course, but he knew from personal experience that the beast in whose company she'd been so cruelly placed was more ghastly than the balrog of campfire fables and the Enemy that people still whispered about with muted fear _combined_. His resolve solidified even more when the creature once again showed of its instruments of torture and the maiden did her best to hide her wince. Even some the bravest warriors hadn't been able to withstand such torment; he could only hope that he would get to her before it was too late.

It didn't help matters that she was essentially alone too. The jester, who'd had so much potential to be an all-right person or even a warrior himself, had unfortunately been quite taken with the creature for as long as anyone could remember. It revolted him how that stupid jester would follow the beast around, offering it daisies and other such flowers even as it delighted in pestering the maiden and tormenting the warrior. Now, instead of remaining loyal – as he should have been – to the trapped maiden he was sitting right next to _it_, patting its instruments of torture as if they, well, precious babies.

A bead of sweat trickled down one side of the warrior's face as he pushed aside the rest of the branches in his way as stealthily as he could while remaining in a position that still kept him almost completely hidden. He fought the urge to wipe it away. _'If you move now, it'll make a big, huge noise and they'll see you,'_ he reminded himself sternly. _'You're a warrior and you can handle this.'_

Still, he wished with all of his might that the event that led to his current predicament hadn't happened that day. It was incredibly hot that summer, one of the hottest even according to the longest of memories, and that day was the hottest of them yet. The closeness of the air in his hiding place made it all the more worse for the warrior – there was not a part of him that was dry. His sweaty hair stuck to the side of his face, tickling it at the worst of times, and his clothing was so wet that it clung to his slight (_'but bulging with muscles soon enough'_) frame. The humidity that hung in the air made the heat sticky and even more unbearable – a fitting state of things, the warrior mused, if he was correct about what would happen after that event taking place not too far off was over.

The warrior shook his head and ordered himself to concentrate. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that he could do to advert the catastrophes that were bound to happen; because of that. Such a power had never been in his control; he could only hope that he would be strong enough to endure the years ahead of him of minimizing the damage. It was better for him to focus on the task at hand – something that he could most definitely make right – and worry about the future when it became the present. He knew from stories and lessons that too many that had come before him had never learned that lesson; it had led them to ruin but the warrior knew better than to repeat their mistakes.

There! He grinned to himself as the horrible beast, captive maiden, and besotted jester switched positions. Now the creature was in a much more vulnerable position. _'Probably thinks that it's safe,'_ he thought smugly. _'That I'm all tied up with my other boring duties and not able to stop this fiendish plot.'_ The jester was still dangerously close to the line of fire but the warrior didn't care all that much; perhaps what was about to happen would finally knock some sense into him. Best of all, the maiden was in a position to fully witness the heroics of the warrior – maybe it would be enough to impress her in a way that had proved elusive until then. _'This is going to be easy and victory will be so sweet.'_

Ever so carefully, the warrior crept out of the brush and, keeping as close to the ground as possible, crawled over the lush carpet of grass to where the trio sat. Dimly, he wondered if the creator of the majestic garden knew that when he placed that bench among the gorgeous trees and colorful flowers that something so awful would be happening on it. None of that mattered right then, though; he could ask questions later, once he'd put en end to the beast's terrible reign. He wasn't going to be a better opportunity than this: but some miracle of Elbereth and the rest of the Valar, the creature appeared to be so preoccupied with smiling annoyingly at the maiden and bossing the jester around that the warrior was going completely unnoticed. This was his chance and he was going to take it.

Pausing only to draw his sword he made it to right behind the bench in question. Thank Elbereth that the backs of the beast and the traitorous jester were still to him! Raising himself up into a squat, he positioned the sword in his hands. Then, as the tension and anticipation that had been swelling within him since the mission began came to a boiling point, he sprang to his feet with his fine weapon raised above his head in a two-handed fighting stance. "I smite thee, beast of Minas Tirith!" he shouted importantly before bringing the sword down to connect with the creature's head.

Many things happened at once in response to this declaration. The beast let loose and unearthly – and rather girly – shriek and threw itself to one side before the warrior had the chance to strike it. The creature happened to move in the same direction that the jester sat. The boy, however, had been moving toward his supposed beloved in an attempt to pull it out of harm's way. They collided and stumbled clumsily to the ground; with the instruments of torture scattering around then, the jester pinned and filthy, and the beast's dress twisted up around its thighs revealing its bare feet.

In the midst of all of the confusion, the beautiful captive maiden looked at the warrior and their eyes locked. His breath caught in his throat at the fiery look he perceived there. Was she finally going to profess her undying devotion to him? Her mouth opened and he leaned forward in anticipation of finally hearing the words that he'd been waiting for…

"Eldarion Telcontar! What in the name of the Valar to do you think you're doing?"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Just a few minutes before the prince of Gondor's mean (but admittedly amusing) sneak attack, Findowyn, the seventeen-year-old daughter of the Steward Faramir and Lady Eowyn, was trying desperately to keep her mind on whatever it was that five-year-old Laurelin was prattling on about this time. Oh, how she wished that her mother hadn't stuck her with this baby-sitting duty! She'd tried to appeal to that part of Eowyn who was still the young woman who'd rather sneak into battle than hide in the relative safety of her uncle's palace, but Eowyn had only shaken her head knowingly. _'There are times when the situation is so dire that one must put aside mundane duties in order to do what's right,'_ she'd told her daughter. _'This is not one of those times. If I find out you've abandoned those children you'll see all too clearly just how much of the Witchking slayer I still am.'_

Not that Findowyn would ever even consider doing such a thing; it would be horrible enough if something had happened to a child in her care – when one of those children just happened to be the young princess of Gondor it was only natural that one would be extra cautious. Still, that didn't mean that she had to _enjoy_ it. It wasn't that she didn't find little Laurelin adorable – it was just that there was only so much _adorable_ that she could take in one day without getting nauseous and she'd had her fill quite a while ago. To make matters worse all the girl seemed interested in talking about were her baby dolls. That was one topic that Findowyn had never found particularly interesting even when she was a five-year-old herself.

"I call this one Oropher," Laurelin was informing her, nodding to the doll cradled in the crook of her left arm. "And the other one is called Elrond. They're twins."

"Is that right?" asked Findowyn with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. By the Valar, why did it have to be so hot? She was having a hard enough time keeping from drifting off to sleep as it was.

"Yes," replied Laurelin solemnly. "It's important to get that right. It would be very, very bad if we spent the rest of their lives switching their names all around. Wouldn't it be awful to spend your whole life not knowing what your real name is?"

Findowyn had a passing curiosity about how, or if, the girl could know which one was which but decided not to ask. The last thing she needed was to do anything that might draw out this mind-numbing conversation. "Yes, it would be," she agreed.

A look of guilt came to Laurelin's face. "I'm a bad mommy," she confessed. "I'd already named them Elrond and Elros because those are the names of my grandsire and his twin brother but I had to change it. Ada and Papa have been going on about how important it is to honor both sides of the family and I didn't do that! So I changed Elros' name to Oropher, after Daerada's ada. Do you think my poor babies are going to be mad at me?"

"Never," piped up four-year-old Theomir emphatically. He gazed lovingly at Gondor's princess. "No one could ever be mad at you, 'specially since you did the right thing."

This would have comforted Laurelin if she was old enough to understand that if anyone could sympathize with a parent's burden to pay due homage to both of their child's heritage as well as understand how that affect the child it was Theomir. Like his older sister, Findowyn, his name was a hybrid meant to honor both the late King Theoden of Rohan and the fallen Lord Boromir of Gondor. The name's creation had resulted from a compromise between Faramir, who loved his realm and its people with his whole being and wanted his son to have a name that would fit in among the Gondorians, and Eowyn, who was ever mindful that her children not forget that they were half Rohirric even as their lives took place primarily in Gondor. In trying to find something that satisfied them both they'd managed to find the perfect name that didn't fully belong to either culture. While the relationship between Gondor and Rohan was so good that having a parent from each realm wasn't as unthinkable as it had been in the past, it still left Theomir feeling somewhat torn.

Findowyn could relate to that. '_And so can she,'_ thought the young woman, impulsively ruffling Laurelin's hair. She chuckled inwardly as the little girl let out an indignant cry, unceremoniously dropped her dolls to the ground, and attempted to straighten out her disheveled locks. Once she'd combed it with her fingers as best she could, the affronted princess tucked her hair firmly behind her ears, revealing the delicate points to the world.

'_At least Theomir and I come from two different groups of the same race,'_ mused Findowyn. _'I can't imagine the extra confusion that she and her brother must feel being part elf on top of all that; and poor Legolas has to do more than even Mother does to make sure that his children don't forget all of what they are.'_

"You messed up my hair!" accused Laurelin, obviously unaware of what was going through Findowyn's mind. "And look what you made me do to my poor dollies! Why'd you do that, Findowyn?"

"That was really mean," added Theomir with as much ferocity as a four-year-old boy could muster. He turned to the fuming little girl and gave her such a compassionate look that one would have thought that the children she'd dropped were real. It was all Findowyn could do to not burst out laughing. "It's not your fault, Laurelin, and I'm sure your babies know that. They're not even hurt too badly. Here, I'll help you take care of them."

Poor, poor Theomir; Findowyn shook her head slightly as her little brother scooped the dolls off of the ground with the same reverence that one might handle a priceless jewel or vital message and took great care in brushing all of the dirt off of them. This behavior was nothing new, nor was the reason behind it: he'd adored the princess practically since the day that he was born. In fact, she could still vividly remember how hard she'd laughed when, after weeks of encouragement from both her and her parents came to no avail, one-year-old Theomir took his first steps to follow the two-year-old tornado that Laurelin had been at the time. As they grew older, it was painfully obvious that the boy was far more attached to the princess than she was to him. Everyone could see who was in control in that relationship and it wasn't young Theomir.

This had an upside, though; Findowyn took it as a sign that perhaps there was hope for Laurelin yet. Yes, just a couple more years of dolls and such other play and she could be ready to put all of that nonsense aside and become a young woman not unlike Findowyn and her mother. The reluctant baby-sitter supposed that she could be patient until then and decided to focus on not alienating the little girl who might one day need her guidance. "I'm sorry, Laurelin," she apologized and was a little surprised at how sincere she truly was. "I never meant for anything to happen to your dolls."

"Don't believe her," whispered Theomir loudly, meeting his sister's pointed stare with a disgusted one of his own. "She hates dolls! I've seen what she used to do with hers and it's _scary_."

A few dolls end up headless while in your care and you're branded for life. "Yes, but those were _my_ dolls," argued Findowyn. "I would never do anything to damage something that belongs to you, Laurelin."

"You messed up my hair. You meant to do it, too."

She'd forgotten how easy it was for a child to hold onto the injustices done against them; luckily for her, children also forgave fairly easily if the apology was done right. "That was a mean thing for me to do," replied Findowyn, smiling and gritting her teeth. Humbleness and patience weren't really her strengths and the heat definitely wasn't helping matters. Still, she had years of court-training behind her and knew what steps she'd have to take to atone for her behavior. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

Laurelin's entire face brightened. "Oh, will you brush it for me?" she asked with hopeful excitement. "And do it up all pretty, just like Aunt Eowyn had hers done at Ada and Papa's last anniversary party? I've never seen anything so beautiful as that."

"I'll do my best," promised Findowyn. "But if you liked the hairstyle so much, why have you never asked anyone else to do it for you?"

"Those servants who usually take care of that stuff are so boring," Laurelin complained. "They say it's not app-apro- not right for a girl my age. I can't ask Ada to do it either; whenever he does my hair I always end up looking like some warrior elf. I think that's the only style he knows how to do. And I can't really ask Papa either, because, well, you know."

There was no further need for elaboration on that point, for Aragorn's pre-coronation skills (or rather lack thereof) with a hairbrush and other grooming supplies were legendary among their extended 'family'. Just the idea of Gondor's king doing anything that resembled styling to his daughter's hair would be enough to send a chill down even the most seasoned warrior's spine.

"You'll do it, right?" pressed the princess. Desperation was now lacing the edges of her hopefulness. "It'll be so much fun; just us girls, and both of us being family instead of one being a servant."

"It sounds like a lot of fun and I'll be happy to do it," lied Findowyn convincingly. Truth be told, usually she'd rather chew solid steel rather than spend the afternoon primping but there was something so…lonely in Laurelin's tone that broke her heart. It must be so hard for her to be the only girl in the family; having to deal with her parents recent preoccupation undoubtedly magnified those emotions.

Theomir reached out and placed a caring hand on Laurelin's arm, drawing her attention away from the older girl and back on him where he thought it should have been. "You're going to look even more pretty, if that can happen," he told her, his eyes shining as he imagined what an even more beautiful Laurelin would look like. "And I'll be right there to make sure that _she_ doesn't mess it up in any way. Is there anything else you need for me to do for you?"

"That depends," answered Laurelin. She turned her expectant eyes on Findowyn. "Can we do it right now?"

Better to get it over with now. "I don't see why not."

"Then you can help me, Theomir, by helping me get my other doll," ordered the young princess, jumping to her feet. With a quick twitch of her head she led the boy around Findowyn to the other side of the bench, where yet another baby doll was 'taking a nap.' Findowyn slid to the place they'd just vacated to make sure that they'd have enough room. "I can hold him just fine once I actually have him, but I also have to take care of Elrond and Oropher and I can't _lift_ anyone else."

"I'll be happy too," replied Theomir importantly, picking up the doll and handing it to her after she'd settled down comfortably on the bench.

"He's a nice doll," commented Findowyn kindly but awkwardly. "Very, um, handsome."

"Thank you," smiled the little girl, polite and pleased. "I named him Gloin, after Grandpa Gimli's father."

Without warning, a figure that had gone unnoticed until then leapt up behind the two small children. In his hand was a wooden sword that Findowyn recognized almost as readily as she did the person who was wielding it. "I smite you, beast of Minas Tirith!" Prince Eldarion of Gondor declared dramatically as he moved to hit his little sister in the head with the toy weapon.

This was not the first time that something like this had happened to Laurelin but that fact didn't make the prospect of getting hit over the head any more appealing. "Leave me alone, you stupid boy!" she shrieked, startled and angry in equal parts.

Her reflexes – built up after enduring years of Eldarion's sneak attacks – didn't fail her; she ducked and managed to avoid the sword. However, the sudden movement made her slam into Theomir head-on as the devoted little boy was gallantly, if unnecessarily, attempting to come to her rescue. Their limbs got tangled and they fell together, Theomir trapped beneath her, her dirty feet exposed for all to see, and dolls scattered all about them.

After quickly checking to see if they were hurt in an immediately obvious way, Findowyn glared furiously at the attacker. "Eldarion Telcontar," she scolded, her anger not at all dissipating as he stared back at her in the same adoring way that her little brother looked at his little sister, "what in the name of the Valar do you think you're doing?"

"Rescuing you, fair lady," replied Eldarion with an exaggerated chivalrous bow that matched his tone perfectly.

"From a four-year-old and five-year-old," she scoffed. "I'm impressed. Laurelin, Theomir, are you two all right?"

Eldarion didn't bother to disguise his hurt as the older girl brushed past him to examine the children in her care more thoroughly. That wasn't the right response! Usually Findowyn tolerated – even encouraged – his games of make-believe. He didn't like this sudden shift in her behavior, _especially _not on a day when too many things were changing in his life as it was.

"Don't give me that look, Eldarion," said Findowyn warningly, not appreciating the scowl and pout that were clouding his features. "You're going to be thirteen in a few months – much too old to be going around attacking your little sister. Is that how you're going to act at your birthday party?"

"No," he responded defensively.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" she continued on as if she hadn't heard him. "Mother told me that you were going to be with the advisors' council, listening to them instruct you on, well, on how to _not_ act like this in formal settings."

"I escaped," sulked Eldarion. He dug a hole in the ground with his toe, feeling ashamed of his behavior all of the sudden. After all, it wasn't as if Laurelin _tried_ to be so obnoxious all the time. "It was so boring –"

His voice cut off when something smacked him in the knee. "You meanie," roared (as much as a child her age _could _roar) Laurelin. She swung her unfortunate doll – little Gloin – by the leg numerous times, punctuating each word she spoke with a blow to her brother's body. "Look what you did to my dolls and my dress! I'm telling Ada and Papa! And Daerada Thranduil and Grandpa Gimli! I'm even going to tell Uncle Elrohir and Uncle Elladan! And write about this to the Shire!"

Eldarion groaned as he tried to stop her from hitting him in a way that wouldn't make Findowyn even angrier with him. He'd decided long ago that this growing up stuff was overrated; not only did he have to spend more time with the dull advisors' council and less time with Findowyn but now it also meant that he had to let Laurelin get away with things like what she was doing right then. Little sisters were such pains! He couldn't understand why his Ada and Papa had wanted to create any more of them.

'_Or,'_ thought the boy in resignation as he looked in the direction that the Houses of Healing lay, _'why Ada has to go and bring not one but _two_ of them into the world today.'_

To be continued…


	2. The second twins

_A/N: Sorry this is a little late; the site wouldn't let me log in this morning so I had to wait until after work._

Despite the importance of what he was concentrating on, Elladan couldn't help looking up to steal a glance at the figure perched in an awkward position on the bed. _'He looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion,'_ he thought, shaking his head with worry and amazement.

Even if he hadn't known for a fact that the poor creature hadn't been getting much rest as the twins' (_'How strange it is to think of people besides Elrohir and myself as 'the twins'!'_) due date approached, he still would have been able to figure it out without difficulty just by looking at him. His eyes were bloodshot and adorned with dark circles underneath, a clear sign of many sleepless nights. His hair was soaked with sweat and hideously unruly, though that wasn't unexpected considering that he wouldn't have had time to wash and comb it in the last twelve hours. All and all, his expression and body language were etched with an overall fatigue that became more and more apparent as the labor stretched on. Elladan could only guess that the same rush that they'd all felt before in battle was the only thing that was keeping the soon-to-be new father from falling asleep.

And Aragorn wasn't even the one who was actually having the babies.

The Man had, however, remained firmly at his husband's side ever since Legolas' contractions started when the sun had not yet risen. It was a commendable accomplishment, when two facts were taken into consideration: first, that it was now late in the afternoon and, two, that the elf prince was _not_ in a very good mood. A lesser Man might have quailed long ago but Aragorn stayed, smiling and encouraging his beloved. "You're doing wonderfully, my love," he said with a brainless sort of cheerfulness that made him marvel even as the words fell out of his mouth. Was that really him? Where was the wise king of Men, or the noble commander who'd led an army to do battle outside of the Black Gates, or the fearless ranger who dared to go into the most evil places of the world in order to atone for the sins of his ancestors?

'_Perhaps not even any of _them _would dare venture into this room right now,'_ he thought dryly as Legolas gave him a dark look that promised bodily injury, a verbal tongue-lashing, and banishment from their bed. The elf was usually so good at controlling his emotions, but Aragorn found out five years ago at their daughter Laurelin's birth that being in labor made that gift diminish greatly. That wasn't the only gift that wasn't at its full potency either; as an elf, Legolas was usually unaffected by the heat but being pregnant apparently made him more susceptible to it (Aragorn didn't know if that was just because of the pregnancy or if Legolas' mortality was a factor in it too, nor did he ask as he figured that either way the Man held some responsibility for it).

The heat had also led to the unfortunate situation concerning the door to the healing chamber where Legolas was giving birth. With Aragorn being a Man and the elf being affected by the heat, the room couldn't get too hot lest they face the dangers that went along with dehydration. Now Legolas, who so greatly disliked having healers – even Elladan and Elrohir – examine his private areas, now had to have the door wide open in the hopes of creating some sort of cooling breeze. That was the position he was currently in: hot, sweaty, in pain, bored, exposing himself with no privacy, and forced to listen to his husband tell him how good he was doing. It was enough to drive him insane.

The king, commander, and ranger in Aragorn didn't know how to deal with the elf in that situation but luckily the Man had another side to him: the husband of Legolas. That persona was good, loving, and thick-skinned; he knew that it was his job to comfort and support Legolas during this trying time and he took that task very seriously. "You can do it," he went on, trying not to notice how the prince's eyes narrowed tempestuously. "Everything is going to be just fine, Legolas; it will be all over soon. You just need to relax as best you can and breathe."

"Thank Elbereth you're here, Aragorn," said Legolas sarcastically. "Relax and breathe! And here I was, about to ride all the way to the Shire to deliver the invitations to Eldarion's birthday celebration to the hobbits myself! Right after I went to the city's training grounds to demonstrate hand-to-hand combat to all of the new guards, of course. How was I supposed to know that relaxing and breathing was the best thing I could do in this situation?"

Aragorn managed to not let his expression waver during the tirade. At the end of the bed Elladan cleared his throat and Elrohir ignored them all.

"It's not as if I've done anything like given birth before," Legolas continued to rant. "Our other two children, after all, simply fell out of the sky. I'm glad you're here to keep me from doing anything foolish! Do you have any other pearls of wisdom?"

"Legolas –"

"Come now," snapped the elf, glaring at his poor husband. "There has to be something else. I was thinking about challenging Gimli to a drinking contest; do you have any advice concerning that?"

Aragorn clamped his teeth down on his tongue, the sting he felt at the moment preferable to saying anything that he'd regret as soon as it left his mouth. How he wished that the twins would be born as quickly as possible! He desperately wanted to hold the children that he'd been eagerly awaiting for about seven months; his concern for Legolas and the children's welfare grew in proportion to how long the labor continued; and he was looking forward to the moment when his husband would come back and the orc that had temporarily taken over his body would be banished.

Until then, though, he would have to endure Legolas' orkish behavior. "What?" tsked Legolas in mock surprise. "Have you no advice at all?"

The elf prince stared at Aragorn, silently and abstinently darning him to say something. When nothing came out, he turned his head as much as he could manage to call out the open door. "Gimli! What do you say, my dear friend? The two of us, several barrels of ale, the last one standing wins?"

"I say that you're wasting too much energy on shouting to me and not enough on the important task that you should be concentrating on!" Gimli called back, his voice coming from somewhere in the small room directly outside the healing chamber. "Stop being so cheeky and let Aragorn be!"

"I'm afraid that I have to concur," chimed in Elrohir as his hands scurried to grab a nearby clean cloth to use to apply more of the poultice of the herb Golden Crown to Legolas' skin in order to control the potentially deadly bleeding that accompanied male birth in elves. "As entertaining as all of this banter may be you need to conserve your strength, mellon nin."

"Because, of course, I usually have no strength to speak of –"

"I am not your husband, Legolas," said Elrohir in a very Elrond-like voice. "You're very fortunate that Estel will put up with so much abuse, but do not make the mistake of thinking that such tolerance extends into his brothers. We're trying to help you and would appreciate it if you would cooperate."

Legolas went tense as yet another sharp pain hit him. "I'm sorry," he groaned. "It's – I'm – how much longer is this going to continue? It's never taken me this long to give birth before?"

The twins and Aragorn might have dismissed this complaint with only gratuitous words of comfort and internal wondering at how impatient and emotional Legolas got during labor had it not been for the twinge of fear in his tone. Almost thirteen years of calmly – for the most part – dealing with his children's illnesses, bumps and bruises, one broken arm, and times of emotional heartache had not totally rid the trauma of Eldarion's birth from Legolas' mind. Not even experiencing the way that births should go with Laurelin could stop the elf from thinking in some corner of his mind that this birth would go wrong and it would be all his fault. Deep down he would always carry the scars of the night when he was bleeding and didn't know why, afraid of losing his child, and hoping that he would live long enough to see the boy.

"Eldarion's birth was probably only a little bit shorter than this," Elladan reminded him comfortingly. "I know that it might not seem that way, but that's because you didn't realize that you were in labor until much later on in the process. Even then it took a few hours; don't you remember?"

"That night – is – hazy," responded Legolas through gritted teeth. Another contraction – it would be time to start pushing soon. "I kept – drifting – in, in – and out – of – consciousness."

A wave of cold despair washed over Aragorn as he recalled the night of his first child's birth – the night when he'd been sent from his husband's side when he needed to be with him most. The night he spent lost in his own hopeless thoughts as each minute stretched into a life-age. "It did take quite a long time," he offered softly.

"As for Laurelin's birth," Elladan went on, sparing Aragorn a small understanding smile, "that actually took about the same time as Eldarion's. It probably didn't seem that way because you let Estel talk you into coming to stay at the Houses of Healing over a week before the labor actually started. As I recall, you were so stir-crazy by the time that the contractions started that I think you were just grateful to have something new to occupy your time."

As it unsurprisingly turned out, Legolas hadn't been the only one who'd been traumatized by Eldarion's birth. The years that laid between the boy's birth and that of Laurelin's was not by pure happenstance, nor was the decision to have a second child an easy one even though both of them wanted to have more of them. Upon learning that his husband was pregnant again Aragorn had insisted on taking ever precaution imaginable. They'd contacted Elladan and Elrohir immediately and the twins had responded in kind, traveling to Minas Tirith right away and not stepping foot out of the city for five months until after the princess had been born. Thranduil had moved back into the citadel; officially to help Legolas and keep an eye on his grandchild and unofficially to act as an extra set of eyes watching out for any potential dangers. Legolas' diet and weight had been closely monitored. His traveling had been restricted to within the city walls and never, ever alone.

Aragorn's vigilance only grew more obsessive the closer the due date got. A month before the baby was supposed to arrive – about the time that Legolas had gone into premature labor with Eldarion – the nervous Man had done everything he could to make sure that absolutely no stress was introduced into his husband's life (something that ironically made Legolas more anxious, thinking of all the things that Aragorn was trying to protect him from). He also convinced the elf to consent to frequent examinations so that the bleeding could be detected quickly once it started. Finally, when there was only a week left until the due date, Legolas – and Aragorn with him – had moved what had become the royal chamber in the Houses, which he hadn't come to like any better since the last pregnancy. After all of that, Laurelin had actually come a couple of days late. In all of his planning, Aragorn hadn't stopped to consider that particular circumstance and it had almost driven him to distraction with worry; which in turn exhausted his two brothers who were stuck answering his anxious and often inane questions.

Legolas had tolerated all of this extremely well back then – after all, the only other pregnancy he had to compare it to had been that of his son's – but now that he had more first-hand experience the same hadn't held true. He'd balked when Aragorn suggested he spend more time at the Houses than absolutely necessary and had even taken Eldarion and Laurelin on a ride to Ithilien during the earlier months, against his husband's protestations, to see of some of the elves who were taking the ships to Valinor. Legolas' more relaxed behavior had clashed with Aragorn's fussiness and caused a few terrific 'loud disagreements' between the married couple but Elladan and Elrohir were secretly thrilled by the change in the elf this time around. Both knew that Legolas' pregnancy would go a lot better if he wasn't so constantly apprehensive about all of the nitpicky things that he could do to in order to keep the babies safe and healthy.

It wasn't without its amusing moments either. The twins still snickered when they remembered the first night that Aragorn had tried to check for bleeding during this pregnancy. When Legolas had been pregnant with Laurelin, the king had gotten into the habit of simply parting his husband's legs and examining him while he slept. Legolas had grown used to it then, accepting them as necessary and sleeping through the nocturnal inspections, but like most things it had been different this time. When the eighth month had rolled around, Aragorn had done as he always did and grabbed one of the elf's legs to move him into position. Before he could get hold of the other, however, a startled and groggy Legolas had blindly lashed out kicking. The man had born the black of he'd received when his husband's foot connected with his face for a long time.

He was going to get another one momentarily too, if he didn't keep his actions in check. Legolas might have been sorry for being so sarcastic but that didn't mean that his fuse wasn't still very short, especially when Aragorn kept getting too close to him. "Mela," the Man began to comfort him, grabbing Legolas' shoulders and pressing up against his back to support him.

"Don't touch me!" ordered Legolas sharply. "Ai Elbereth, is it not sweltering enough in here for you already? Must we exchange body heat as well?"

"Legolas, you need to get ready to push," Elrohir told him.

The words made Aragorn instinctively wrap his arms around the elf's upper body. "We're almost there," he said excitedly.

"Where? The fires of Mordor?" demanded Legolas; the pain, his position, and his pregnant belly making it impossible for him to pull away no matter how much he tried. "That's what it feels like. I think I'm melting!"

"When I tell you, start pushing," instructed Elrohir. "Of course, it would be helpful if you were conscious at the time, so please don't do anything that might make him pass out, Aragorn."

"I'm sorry," apologized Aragorn for lack of a better response. He was grateful when Elladan gave him a sympathetic nod. Moving away so that he wouldn't be touching Legolas so much, he continued, "I was just going to say, before all the pushing talk came up, was that there is probably nothing to worry about, mela nin. The fact that there are two babies instead of one is what's most likely making it take a little longer."

Legolas muttered something under his breath that Aragorn decided it was probably best that he hadn't heard. "Everything's going to be fine," the Man babbled on. "As it has before in other generations – do you realize that twins run in my family?"

"If that's the case then castration should also run in your family!" snapped Legolas.

Another, fiercer labor pain struck him and Legolas grasped Aragorn's hand.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Outside the chamber in a smaller waiting area where five people were waiting, a pair of large gray eyes grew even wider than before and the young boy to whom they belonged blushed. "Should – should," he stammered awkwardly though his appropriate embarrassment. "Should I inform the Council –"

"You should inform them that Prince Legolas is still in labor but it is coming to an end soon," supplied Faramir, the steward of Gondor, smoothly. "That's all that they need to know, all that they care about, and all that I'm sure the king and prince would want you to share, Minardil."

The messenger boy instinctively glanced toward the open door of the birthing chamber, making sure not to actually peek inside (although, in truth, he wouldn't have been able to see anything; once Aragorn realized that Legolas would most likely deliver during the heat wave he took great pains to ensure that the bed wouldn't be visible to anyone outside the chamber unless that person was actually standing at the doorway looking in). "Prince Legolas sounds like he's really mad at King Elessar," he noted timidly.

"Prince Legolas is trying to pass two people out of his body and what is probably the hottest, muggiest day in many years," Eowyn, who was sitting at her husband's side, reminded him. "I'd be shocked his mood was anything other than terrible. Don't fret, child; once the babies are born they'll be back to their shockingly affectionate selves."

"But maybe I should tell the Council about the prince's request that the king do this castration," suggested Minardil innocently and ignorantly. "It sounds like he'd like it if King Elessar did it."

"Very few things would make the prince more unhappy," said Faramir tactfully, smothering the laugh that threatened to burst as he imagined the look on the advisors' faces if Minardil was to bring that suggestion before them. That was not to say that the noblemen who advised the king on political matters hadn't gotten some sort of sense of humor in the past years; it was probably just a good idea to keep humor about castrating the king between members of the royal couple's make-shift family. "Tell them only what I instructed you to."

"Yes, my lord," said Minardil automatically but not insincerely.

"After that, return here at once," said Faramir. "Really, I wouldn't have you leave now if we hadn't given them our word that we'd provide them with hourly updates. The Council will need to know when the twins are born as soon as possible and it doesn't sound like it'll take another hour."

Minardil bowed and, after sparing one more backwards glance toward the chamber where his prince and king were, took of in a sprint. "Poor Legolas," sympathized Eowyn. "I remember quite well the difficult process of childbirth. I guess I _didn't_ realize until now how fortunate I was that Findowyn and Theomir were born during the mild weather of the spring!"

"What about the next one?" inquired Faramir with teasing innocence. "You could always end up having to give birth in the hot summer or on the harshest day of winter the next time that you get pregnant."

"I'm sorry to inform you that there will most definitely _not_ be a next time," insisted Eowyn wryly. One of her hands went up to her hair and she combed her fingers through the graying blonde locks. "Theomir feels like enough of a handful and he's as introspective and sweet-tempered as his father. I think that's a clear indication that I'm getting too old to handle anymore children." She playfully grabbed a fistful of Faramir's hair with her free and gave it a gentle tug. "Though not as old as you," she added with joking concern.

Faramir grinned good-naturedly and tenderly removed Erwin's hold. Once freed, he shook his head vigorously so that his hair – which had long been completely grayish white by the time his son had been born – flew all over. "Are you implying that the color of my hair gives off the impression that your virile husband has reached the age of infirmity?" he demanded in his formal tone.

Eowyn gave him an 'of course' look that made Faramir burst out laughing. "My dear wife, I have spent a lifetime dealing with the demands and disapproval of my father, a king who didn't always embrace all of the aspects of his position, a prince consort with a stubborn will of his own, years of being the go-between with the monarchy and the noblemen, a daughter who preferred slaying imaginary balrogs to learning how to act like a 'proper lady', a son who wears his heart on his sleeve as he pursues a girl who doesn't care as strongly for him yet, _and_ a wife whom many believe is too headstrong to do either of us much good," he recounted jovially. "I'm amazed that I even still _have_ hair. It can be whatever color it needs to be as long as it stays where it is."

Sitting a little ways away from them and closer to the door Gimli sniggered, enjoying the entertainment that the couple's exchange was providing during that afternoon of waiting; but Thranduil, who sat beside him, was too preoccupied with worrying about what was going on in his son's birthing chamber to really register anything that Faramir and Eowyn were bantering about. "It _has_ taken an awfully long time," he fretted. "I know that the other children's births were almost as long but now there are two infants; that could add more stress to Legolas' body and even put him in danger. What do you think, Gimli? Is it a good sign or a bad one?"

"I think that it's the natural way of things and not a sign at all," Gimli informed him. "And I also think that you worry so much about that laddie that it's a wonder that _your_ hair's not gray."

The elven king marveled at the apparent ease that the dwarf had in scoffing and comforting at the same time. "It is a habit that is too ingrained in me to ever lose," said Thranduil.

"And not without reason," conceded Gimli jovially. "But since Legolas gives us plenty of cause for worrying on his own, everyone would be better off if you didn't go looking for more. He's fine, Thranduil! Elladan and Elrohir have been with him since the start of labor; they know what they're doing and so does he."

But if anything were to happen to him or any of my grandchildren –"

Thranduil's voice was cut off by the sound a particularly prolonged loud groan from Legolas, followed by a much higher pitched cry. "I know I shouldn't have sent that boy off," complained Faramir, beaming. "Just a couple more minutes and he could have carried to the advisors word about Gondor's newest prince or princess."

"Princess," Thranduil told him, tears in his eyes. "Legolas has known all along and I know now: Gondor has a new princess – two, once her sister is born."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"I'm not saying that they aren't perfectly adorable," insisted Elladan defensively as he finished cleaning off the younger of the two newborns. Wrapping her in a blanket, he handed her over to her papa. "They're just covered with a lot of unattractive goo, too."

"Your Uncle Elladan has a problem with bodily 'goo'," cooed Aragorn to the child he'd just been given, who was nestled in his arms and staring up at him as if fascinated. "Strange, since he's a healer and should be used to it by now."

"Be quiet, Estel," groaned Elladan. "Honestly, you've been acting all uppity since you turned 100. You seem to think that you're all grown up and forget that you're still our little brother."

"Now, now, _children_; there's no time for that," scolded Elrohir. "We've got four sets of ears outside, straining to hear everything we're saying while their owners wait for us to invite them in. Are you ready for them, Legolas?"

Legolas pressed a kiss into the brow of the infant in his arms, on the hand of her sister, and finally on Aragorn's lips. "In a few minutes," he decided, "and I wouldn't mind if you two stepped outside as well."

"I suppose we could do that," sighed Elladan dramatically. "But don't send us out there with nothing! At least let us know what the babies' names are, if you've already figured them out."

"We have, long ago," said Legolas with a smile. "Our elder twin will be called Gilraen, after my husband's mother –"

"And the younger will be called Meren, after _my _husband's mother," completed Aragorn proudly.

"When you go out there could you make sure that word is sent to Eldarion and Laurelin right away?" requested Legolas. "We would have them come as soon as possible to meet their sisters."

The twins nodded and exited, leaving Aragorn and Legolas alone for the first time that day. In that peaceful moment, they sank back against the pillows propped up on the headboard and rested their heads together. Times of utter tranquility were difficult enough to come by in their family and now that they had just doubled the number of children. They were only too happy to soak in as many as they could while they were still available.

To be continued…

_A/N: I have no idea what Legolas' mother's name is (in fact, I haven't seen anything about Tolkien actually giving her a name), so I took the name Meren off of a Sindarin name website. It's supposed to mean "joyous."_


	3. Theories of the Council

_A/N: We'll get back to the family next chapter, I promise!_

The king, the prince, and their son weren't the only ones who were having a less than stellar day. While Legolas was toiling on in labor, Aragorn was enduring his husband's sharp tongue, and Eldarion was failing to impress Findowyn, the chamber that served as the meeting hall for the Advisors' Council was full of Men who were having problems of their own. "Well, this has been turning out to be a fine day indeed," chirped Eärnil sardonically as he propped his elbows up on the gigantic table in front of him and buried his face in his hands.

The other advisors huddled around him, all feeling about the same as he was but disquieted to actually hear the words come out of his mouth. Eärnil commanded a lot of authority among them, given his position as one the king's most trusted advisors, and knowing for a fact that he believed that they were in dire straits made the gravity of their situation all too real. "Not only have we lost King Elessar and Prince Legolas' firstborn child – the heir to the throne of Gondor, for the Valar's sake! – but now we're _deceiving_ them about it too," Eärnil continued to lament.

His friend and trusted colleague, Belecthor, broke away from the crowd, sitting down heavily next to him and giving him a comforting pat on the arm. "We are not actually _deceiving_ anyone," he corrected, sounding far too cheerful for Eärnil's nerves to handle.

Not for the first time Eärnil marveled at Belecthor's fortitude – the Man, old enough to remember when King Elessar came to the city using the name Thorongil, should have been well into senility by now; instead he'd grown even more vibrant and laid-back since the birth of Gondor's prince. It was almost as if he were aging in reverse and becoming a bold young man in his twilight years. "I would very much like to know how you've come to that conclusion," said Eärnil with a notable lack of enthusiasm.

"What exactly have we done that can really be called deception?" asked Belecthor rhetorically. "All we've done is sent one of our numbers to meet the errand runner from the Houses outside of the citadel instead of making him all the way up here every hour to give up updates on the prince's progress. It's a service, really, to King Elessar, Prince Legolas, and to Lord Faramir too, as they get him back to send more messages that much sooner."

"He's right," agreed Arvedui as he and the rest of the advisors swarming around the seated pair nodded ridiculously.

"You see?" Belecthor asked Eärnil, gesturing toward Arvedui as if the Man had offered up indisputable evidence rather than a desperately optimistic opinion. "And if this new arrangement just happens to conceal the fact that Prince Eldarion has managed to escape our tutelage, we can't be blamed for it."

"Yes, yes," spoke up Malvegil, eager to agree with the person who wasn't foreseeing trouble in their future. "And even if they were to find out, do you not think that they should take part of the blame? King Elessar at least should, for Prince Eldarion is so much like him; especially as he was in the first years of his reign. I dare say that the prince is most likely an exact copy of what his father was like as a boy."

As he listened to his fellow advisors babble on, Eärnil took a moment to send a quiet thanks to the Valar that a Man like King Elessar was ruling over Gondor – and the Council. Before the return of the king, back when the realm was ruled by the increasingly suspicious and unstable Lord Denethor, the Council's current actions – huddling close together in the meeting hall to whisper secrets while doing everything in their power to keep the lord of the city's messenger from entering – would have been viewed as highly suspect, even tantamount to treason. Denethor had been a Man to tread carefully around and respect because you feared not to. King Elessar, on the other hand, was one of the few people in who actually preferred to hear the honest truth, no matter how unflattering, instead of cautious tact. As difficult as it had been to adjust to that change, Eärnil was very glad for the change – it was so refreshing to be advising a ruler who would actually take everything that they said into consideration!

It hadn't always been like that, as Malvegil so tactlessly noted; and in that fact laid the origins of the advisors' fondness and admiration for Prince Legolas. Many eyebrows – most of them belonging to members of the Council – had been raised when the newly crowned king had immediately married a male elf instead of seeking a wife among the nobility. Some had feared that he would provide too much of an elven influence on a ruler whom many had believed was too influenced by that world already. With great regret Eärnil recalled his own strained and chilled greeting to the new prince consort after the coronation and wedding. If only they had known then just how much of a blessing the elf's influence would truly be!

The blessing was that unlike his husband – whose foster father's advising body had been so familial with Lord Elrond's actual family that they were referred to as members of the household rather than a council or advisors – Prince Legolas had been brought up in a formal court. Consequently he possessed a keen and insightful knowledge of court politics and was always mindful that his and the king's actions were carefully balanced between reflecting favorably on them without sacrificing who they really were. It was generally understood, though never officially mentioned, that it was most likely the prince's advocacy that kept King Elessar from disbanding the Council altogether in the first four years of his reign when a lot of miscommunication and lack of trust hampered its effectiveness. So respected was Prince Legolas that it had long been since most people even thought of him as foreign born. He was now so much a citizen of Gondor that none of the advisors had objected when King Elessar appointed his husband to fill a seat on the Council that had been vacated around the time of their son's birth.

As wise and understanding as they were, or had become, however, Prince Legolas and King Elessar probably wouldn't react too well if they found out that the Council had been outwitted by Prince Eldarion. "I don't believe that you should present your theory that King Elessar is partially to blame for the prince's behavior should he question you," said Eärnil dryly.

"Do you know how to remedy this unfortunate circumstance, then?" asked Tanondor, frowning at Eärnil. "You're not suggesting that we tell them that we've misplaced their son!"

"No," hedged Eärnil thoughtfully. While the other members of the Council focused more on his standing now, the advisor found it hard to forget how little the king had trusted him at first and how long it had taken to earn the Man's confidence. He certainly didn't want to shake that faith unless no other alternative was available. "There is precious little that they would be able to do about it now, except worry. But I do think that it's time we employ the use of the guards in tracking down and retrieving Prince Eldarion."

"And the same guards would feel it was their duty to report this news to the king and prince at once!" argued Malvegil. "I for one do not wish to be exiled because a twelve-year-old boy can't sit through one etiquette lesson!"

"All of this is nonsense!" asserted Belecthor, ever the peacemaker, with a wave of his hand as nervous whispers mingled with indignant bursts at the suggestion that King Elessar might actually do something like that. "While the king and prince might not be too happy with us, they certainly won't pass down a punishment so grievous. Prince Eldarion is still in the city, after all, and I don't believe that we'll need guards to find him; he's probably gone to seek out Lady Findowyn. I've noticed that he's quite taken with her – a lovely and appropriate match, don't you think?"

"Oh yes!" chimed in Arvedui eagerly, happy that the subject had changed. All of this talk about missing princes and exile was making this newer member of the Council uneasy. "It would be better, of course, if Lady Eowyn would have another girl, as having the wife _older_ than her husband is quite unusual; but Prince Eldarion has chosen his bride well."

Eärnil gave him a withering look. "You do realize that there will be many obstacles in marrying off our twelve-year-old prince, don't you?" he asked sarcastically. Arvedui looked chagrined. "Perhaps we should focus less on a prospect of marriage and more on the fact that _we don't know where he is!_"

"He will not be difficult to find," Belecthor tried to reassure him once more. "And I'm sure that afterwards he will find it in his best interest to keep his – _excursion_ – a secret, as if he were to tell his parents they would surely punish him. And once he realizes that we inform King Elessar and Prince Legolas of his misbehavior he'll see that we aren't his enemies; just think, this whole experience might make him more open to actually paying attention at his etiquette lessons."

A shout in the hallway interrupted the exasperated response that Eärnil had burning at the tip of his tongue. Outside the chamber door a guard was demanding who was going there. Hope was kindled in all of their hearts for a moment that it was Prince Eldarion, returning and startling the Man on duty who thought that the prince was already within the meeting hall. That was extinguished, though, when the door didn't open immediately – any guard would have recognized the young prince by sight and ushered him in right away. Very few people had cause to bother the Council now since, thanks to the power of gossip, it was undoubtedly common knowledge that Prince Legolas was in labor and all court function would cease temporarily in response. That narrowed the possibilities down to basically one errand runner from the Houses of Healing.

"Oh dear," sighed Tanondor.

"It's Minardil," said Eärnil with dread as the advisors exchanged desperate glances. Later that night the nobleman would chuckle to his wife at how a room full of the most powerful Men in Gondor quailed at the thought of being confronted by a mere child; however at the time he was still to busy quailing to laugh.

"We can't let him in!" argued Malvegil. "Once he sees that the prince isn't here he will feel that he has to inform King Elessar and Prince Legolas about the situation. You know how they, but especially the king, can – _overreact_ – when it comes to the safety of their children. The consequences for us could be devastating."

Belecthor groaned as a knock sounded on the door. "Are all of you even listening to yourselves?" he marveled. "You are _frightened_ to let a ten-year-old errand runner in because he might tattle on us! There are very few things that are more utterly absurd. Not only am I certain that they must understand by now that Prince Eldarion has inherited the king's, ah, restless nature, but also they have time to deal with us until after he's found anyway. It isn't as if they'll come to confront us immediately; this messenger, after all, is probably here to tell us that Prince Legolas has given birth. You know that it takes his body a couple of days to, um, correct itself – if that's the proper term – and he usually takes that time to spend with his family. I doubt the king will leave his side unless the worst has happened."

"But what if that's the case?" fretted Arvedui. "What if something terrible has happened to Prince Eldarion and the day of the twins' birth is forever marred by a bleak anniversary?"

"Then I would say that we would truly deserve whatever punishment that was in store for us," Belecthor told him calmly but with no humor in his voice. Shaking his head slightly he called: "Enter!"

The door opened, but it was the young guard Bergil rather than Minardil who was on the other side. "Good day, my lords," he greeted with a proper bow. "I hope that I'm not interrupting anything of great importance."

"Only the ramblings of anxious Men," said Belecthor amiably. "We were simply awaiting word on if the prince had delivered yet; in fact, most of us had assumed that you were the messenger who was bearing that news."

"Oh, not me," said Bergil with a nostalgic smile as he remembered his days as an errand runner for the monarchy and nobility. It had been he who'd given them the news of Eldarion's birth those many years ago, choking on tears as he did so because he knew how gravely ill Prince Legolas had become in the process. He envied his successors, who had gotten and would get to deliver similar messages under happier circumstances. "I haven't been an errand runner for about ten years now. No, I just came to find out if King Elessar and Prince Legolas were available yet; from what you've just told me I gather that they aren't."

"I doubt that the prince would appreciate a visitor right now," concurred Eärnil, appreciating the knowing chuckle he got from Bergil when most of the other guards would be scandalized at the suggestion that they would violate Prince Legolas' privacy. "I take it that some pressing matter has compelled you to seek them out, though. Is there anything that we might do to be of service?"

"A message had just arrived for them."

Strange that one message was enough to make a guard leave his post to find people that he knew were probably not available. Still, the guards were diligent in seeing to it that the king and prince received all word that came to them. "Is it from the Shire?" questioned Eärnil. "If Masters Took, Brandybuck, and Gamgee have sent responses as to whether or not they'll be attending Prince Eldarion's birthday celebration we can take them."

"Unfortunately I do not think that it pertains to party affairs," said the guard. "It comes from Dol Amroth."

"Well, that's unusual but hardly unacceptable," said Belecthor. "Does Prince Imrahil require Gondor's assistance in any way?"

Bergil shook his head. "I was not told much about the letter's content."

"Send the messenger here and he can leave the letter with us," Eärnil told him. "Unless you plan on lingering outside the Houses there is no better location to wait for word that the prince has given birth, as we will probably be the first ones to know. We will be happy to pass any message along to the king and prince the first chance we get."

It seemed like a shadow passed over the young Man's face for a silent moment. "I'm sorry, my lords," he responded, stiffness in his voice and body, "but Prince Imrahil was adamant that the messenger not let the letter leave his possession until he is able to place it in either King Elessar or Prince Legolas' hands himself. He says that there can be no possibility that they will not get it; apparently it concerns what he calls a 'legal and personal' matter."

The room fell deathly silent, for every Man in there knew for certain who the message was about and could only imagine what had happened to make sending it so necessary. About thirteen years prior Dol Amroth had become the home of two of Gondor's most infamous exiles in recent memory: Lord Cirion and his daughter Nienor. No one who knew about what had taken place to lead to their banishment would have dared to mention them to the king and prince so close to the birth of their children unless there was no other way around it.

The lord had once sat on the Council; and among all of the advisors who were disappointed that the king was already spoken for and would not be looking to their daughters for a queen Cirion had been the most bitter. It was unfair that a male take the place of a woman who could actually perform all the tasks expected of a king's spouse, Cirion had asserted, taking great delight in subtly tormenting Prince Legolas for his supposed inability to bear children and pressuring him to suggest to King Elessar that it was his duty to take a mistress who could give him an heir. This perceived injustice had turned into an obsessive crusade against the prince after the elf had become pregnant with Prince Eldarion. The attacks became more blatant and personal; he had openly called Prince Legolas 'that elf whore' and accused him of being unfaithful, of bewitching the king, and of conducting himself in a manner more befitting a lusty lover on the side rather than a proper royal spouse. Eventually he'd become so irrational and treasonous that the other advisors – even those who were once counted among his friends, such as Eärnil, Malvegil and Tanondor – had turned their backs on him to the point that they had fully supported King Elessar when the monarch banished him for trying to incite the Council to rebel.

The only person who'd listened to Cirion in earnest had been his daughter. His ramblings and teachings had ended up warping Nienor's mind and her ensuing actions almost resulted in tragedy. Fully believing that she had the right to be Gondor's queen, that the prince had stolen King Elessar from her by using his body in an unseemly way, and that her final chance to bear the king's child as a mistress had been unfairly snatched away from her through unnatural magic, the lady had one day snuck into the citadel's kitchen and poisoned Prince Legolas' lunch. By pure dumb luck did she put too much of it in, causing the pregnant elf's body to violently reject it before it could harm him or the baby permanently.

With her first attempt foiled and her father's sudden exile limiting the time she had to carry her twisted plot out, Nienor had tired a more direct approach the second time. She'd slipped into the prince's magnificent garden when she'd know that he'd be alone there and confronted him with a knife. Prince Legolas and the baby had gotten through the ordeal unscathed save for a shallow cut on the belly (the result of a lucky swing when he'd been too baffled by the turn of events to respond to the situation properly) thanks to the princes cool nature and years of skill, not to mention Lord Gloin's well-timed distraction. Nienor had been arrested and detained for two weeks before King Elessar had trusted himself enough to judge her fairly as a ruler instead of a furious husband and father-to-be. By the end of her trial Cirion had repented, Nienor had remained stubbornly sure of her righteousness, she'd been sentenced go the dungeons – serving out her term in the land where her father had been exiled to – and the stress brought on by the situation had pushed Legolas into almost disastrous premature labor.

The message itself was not necessarily about threatening news but to have the events of the past rear their ominous shadow now, on that day of all days, was disconcerting. The contents of the last message of a 'legal and personal matter' from Prince Imrahil was only to send word of Lord Cirion's death after a prolonged illness; but no matter what was in this new correspondence, it would surely bring up the pain of the past and spoil this joyous occasion for King Elessar and Prince Legolas. "The king and prince are otherwise occupied at this moment, as we have told you," said Tanondor tightly. "Can this not wait a day?"

"I don't know," answered Bergil. "I have no idea what it's about."

"It's not advisable to keep messages from King Elessar and Prince Legolas for very long," said Eärnil, giving Tanondor a censuring look. "Especially not one that concerns this topic. I too would have preferred that Prince Imrahil had better timing, but this cannot wait."

"According to Minardil, the prince is very close to delivering the babies now," broke in Belecthor, smiling warmly when he saw the young guard's eyes light up with excitement. "Since Prince Imrahil found it necessary for his messenger to bring this letter here now and give it to them personally, the messenger has no choice but to wait. Bergil, make sure that this Man gets something to eat and drink before finding him a place to rest. When the errand boy returns from the Houses we'll have him send word to the king and prince as soon as possible so that they can decide when the right time to see him will be. You are dismissed now with our thanks."

Bergil bowed and exited promptly, leaving the noblemen to huddle together once more. "What do you thing that's all about?" wondered Arvedui.

"You're a simpleton if you can't guess," groused Malvegil. "It must concern the Lady Nienor."

"Yes, but how?" asked Eärnil. "Her sentence is not finished for another –"

"Few months," interrupted Belecthor in awed horror. "King Elessar sentenced her to thirteen years in the dungeons, as you undoubtedly recall, and the next day Prince Eldarion was born. Now here he is turning thirteen and her imprisonment is coming to an end. My," he added in a soft voice, "how time flies."

"I'm sure that Lady Nienor would beg to differ," countered Tanondor dryly. "Perhaps Prince Imrahil wishes to release her early and is seeking the king's approval to do so."

Eärnil shook his head. "Prince Imrahil is not a fool," he stressed. "What would be gained by making such a request? He would not risk facing the king's displeasure, not to mention the disapproval of the Gondorian people, to get a guilty woman released from her well-earned but still too lenient sentence a few months early."

"Perhaps he feels that she should be incarcerated longer," suggested Arvedui with raised eyebrows. "My brother and his wife recently traveled to Dol Amroth and word there is that the lady remains as unapologetic now as she was at the trial. Do you remember how rude she was when Prince Legolas offered his forgiveness?" He snorted. "Were I in his position I would have demanded to see her head on a spike."

"Pleasant," commented Eärnil. "I'm sure you had a point; please make it."

"My point is that she's reported become even more unruly since her father's death," elaborated Arvedui. "There have been rumors that she blames Prince Legolas for her father's death and has been making threats concerning him and the children; I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if it was all true. Prince Imrahil is in a good position to know about this and could be conveying the message that it would be best if she remained locked up."

While they were pondering his possibility someone rapped on the other side of the door. "That messenger had better not be insisting on being taken to the king and prince at once," growled Eärnil irritably. "Enter!"

The door flew open and a visibly ecstatic Minardil bounded it. "Boy!" cried Eärnil in surprise. The other advisors rearranged themselves as if to hide the absence of the crown prince from the errand runner. "We weren't expecting you for several more minutes."

"I know but as soon as I got back they sent me out again," explained Minardil in a rush. "The babies! Prince Legolas had the babies while I was last here! I got to see them too, since I was getting my orders from Lord Faramir and he was in the healing chamber with them by the time I got back."

"Well then," said Belecthor with an indulgent chuckle. "As you seem to be the most knowledgeable person here on the topic, what more can you tell us? Are they males or females or one of each? Do they have names yet? How do the infants and the prince fare?"

"They are Princess Gilraen and Princess Meren," said Minardil importantly, "and they are very fair indeed, just like the prince. The babies have a little bit of blonde hair, though it's not as light as Prince Legolas', and pointy ears too like everyone else in their family except for King Elessar of course."

Belecthor held up his hand. "Breathe," he instructed. The errand runner obeyed by drawing in a deep breath. "Now tell us: what is the king's command?"

"That you send out word to all of Gondor about the happy occasion," Minardil recited. "You may also visit them in the Houses tomorrow morning, if you keep the visit short and away from anything more stressful than the preparations for Prince Eldarion's birthday celebration. Oh, and that I'm supposed to fetch the prince and Princess Laurelin too. I thought that he was here with you; where is he?"

Eärnil often did his best thinking on his feet and that moment was no exception. With a mischievous glint in his eyes he figured out the perfect answer to this long-dreaded question. "He's snuck off," he said. "You can probably find him either in Prince Legolas' garden or in the royal quarters in the citadel – wherever you might look for Princess Laurelin. If you are unable to locate him, please inform his parents that he disobeyed us and ran off."

"But won't that get him in trouble?"

"If there's any justice in this world," replied Eärnil in a long-suffering tone. _'Which,' _he mused quietly, _'remains to be seen until we know the contents of that message. There would be no justice at all if that woman were allowed the change to do that obnoxious, dear crown prince and his sisters any harm.'_

To be continued…


	4. Curiosity

_A/N: I don't know what Tolkien says is the age in which Gondorian boys officially begin their weapons training, but for my purposes I've made it 13._

"You look bored," said Eldarion, attempting for what seemed like the hundredth time to engage Findowyn in a conversation that involved more pleasant talk and less glaring on her part. He'd been hoping that once she'd finished twisting his sister's hair into a ridiculously ornate style that was impractical for everyday life she wouldn't be so distracted and snippy. It was a shame that Laurelin continued to occupy her time by insisting on returning the favor. "Are you bored?"

Findowyn, who was sitting beside him on his sister's bed, seemed to feel that glaring was still her best option. "Not now," she told him tersely.

Perhaps if he impressed her with his chivalry she'd be more receptive to him. "You could tell me if you were," Eldarion assured her, letting his concern for her well being mingle with the confidence in his voice. "I wouldn't at all be insulted – or surprised, even – if you found my little sister to be a big pest. Say the word and I'll make her stop bothering you right away."

"I heard that," snapped a miffed Laurelin. "I've got Ada's elvish hearing, in case you've forgotten."

"As do I, and that's got nothing to do with anything," shot back Eldarion, tossing her a mean look. "You're standing right next to Findowyn – and getting your muddy footprints all over the bed doing it. Only someone who has no hearing at all could have missed what I just said. Now stop bothering us; Findowyn and I are trying to talk _privately_."

Talk privately – a difficult thing to do with two other people in the room. Findowyn snorted back a sardonic laugh, but Eldarion was too busy focusing on his argument with his sister to notice. "_I'm_ interrupting you two?" said Laurelin as she waved the hairbrush in her hand warningly. "You're not even supposed to be here! You're supposed to be with the advisors, learning how to be a proper gentlemen – and you shouldn't miss any of those lessons because you really need all of them. That's where Ada and Papa expect you to be and you disobeyed so that you could pester poor Findowyn. I've had to hear you babbling to her constantly since you showed up in the garden! Now you keep quiet or else _I'm_ going to make _you_ stop it."

"I'd like to see you try," retorted Eldarion with a snort. "And before you do, let me remind you that you're a weak little kid and I'm a great warrior –"

"Ada and Papa are great warriors," interrupted Laurelin snidely. Her face screwed up in an expression that once made even a mighty elf warrior like Daerada Thranduil shudder at the sight of it. Eldarion had noticed this and questioned his grandfather, who would only say that he was caught off-guard at how much his granddaughter resembled what Legolas looked like when he was in the throes of a tantrum as an elfling. "I don't think that you're anywhere close to be as good as them. After all, Ada's knives and the tips of his arrows aren't made of _wood_, and neither is Papa's big sword."

Did she have to bring _that_ up in front of Findowyn? Eldarion was quite embarrassed by the fact that his parents wouldn't allow him to own a real weapon, even though he had used several of them during the unofficial training he'd started a couple of years back. "Why, you annoying little…"

Throughout this exchange, Theomir had been sitting cross-legged on the floor across from his sister and the prince, stewing over the insults that fell so easily out of Eldarion's mouth but unwilling to intervene lest he break his word to Laurelin about watching over the dolls. It had come to a point, though, that he found it impossible to hold his tongue any longer. "Stop it! Don't you be mean to her anymore!" he commanded furiously, leaping to his feet in an attempt to make Eldarion think he was about to charge and thus intimidating the older boy. In reality, all he managed to do was scatter Laurelin's twin baby dolls, which had been lying on his lap, all around.

"Be careful!" scolded Laurelin, whipping around to face Theomir. In her haste she didn't notice how she smacked Findowyn in the forehead with the hairbrush in the process.

"Don't worry about me," said Theomir proudly. "I can more than handle Eldarion if it means defending your honor."

"I wasn't talking about that," replied Laurelin in exasperation. "Just look what you've done! Stop getting all worked up over whatever's coming out of Eldarion's pea brain and just keep an eye on the babies."

Eldarion saw the brush connect with Findowyn's head. He narrowed his eyes and scowled at his little sister. "As if you're the one to lecture anyone about keeping an eye on things," he shot out.

In the midst of all of this Findowyn sat, pondering her fate. She was hot, causing her to sweat and making her clothes cling uncomfortably to her body. As if that weren't enough, now after the combined efforts of the humidity and Laurelin's wielding of the hairbrush her normally wavy hair had become quite unruly. Now, in addition to all of that suffering, she had to serve as an audience of one for three squabbling children who were doing their very best to give her a migraine. What had she done to deserve all of this?

'_Perhaps I was just as bad as they were when I was young,'_ she wondered, but quickly dismissed the thought. After all, Uncle Eomer constantly noted how she'd been no worse than her mother had been during _her_ formative years. Why, even King Thranduil, who'd so often been on the receiving end of the same wooden sword that Laurelin had been taunting her brother about when the toy was in Findowyn's possession, often admitted that he was somewhat sad that she was now grown up.

'_Oh, well; I suppose it could be much worse,' _she decided. _'I could be with those twit girls who think they're so important because they have noble titles. At least these three have their entertaining moments.' _Findowyn had never before come across anyone who wasted so much air and space by simply talking and existing than the young women her age in the court. Most of their conversations revolved around advantageous marriages – how to get one, how to determine if there was a potential one within grasp, who had one, who didn't, who didn't have a chance at getting one, and who was going to get one that didn't deserve it. She never quite fit in with them, and not just because – as her mother was from a "lesser" realm of Men – she wasn't a pureblood Gondorian.

The worst of it, however, came after it became painfully obvious to all of the court that Eldarion had a crush on her. Suddenly the young women who once barely tolerated her presence were practically fawning over Findowyn with a mixture of envy and scheming. They were actually _jealous_ of the prince's feelings for her, but determined not to alienate the possible future queen. When Findowyn tried to tell them that she had no interest whatsoever in Eldarion they were aghast with her supposed stupidity.

"_He's the _prince_," _they'd stressed as if Findowyn couldn't possibly know that or comprehend what that meant. _"One day he will be the king of Gondor and it appears as if he has decided that _you_ will be his queen. This would be an amazing opportunity for any of us, but for _you_…oh Findowyn, how can you not be thrilled by this?"_

Yes, the young noblewoman found the company of the three bickering children vastly preferable to that of the young ladies her age. She couldn't imagine ever thinking that the possibility of marrying a twelve-year-old was a legitimate and alluring plan for the future. Findowyn also seriously doubted that any of them would know what to make of Eldarion if they really got to know him; still, they were welcome to the prince, especially if he continued to behave so childishly.

"That is enough," declared Findowyn over their chatter. "From all of you," she added, meeting Eldarion's confused look with a pointed one of her own. "Until you three cease this inane nonsense you can safely assume that you're all bothering me."

"But Findowyn," protested Eldarion.

"I don't want to hear it," she cut him off. "At least Laurelin and Theomir have an excuse for their behavior – they're young. You, on the other hand, are about to turn thirteen – the age where you'll begin your serious training with the warriors of Gondor. How you're ready for such a responsibility when you still act about as mature as a five-year-old I'll never understand. Now, let's either talk about something else or not talk at all."

Eldarion bit his lower lip, deeply ashamed. No wonder she hadn't been treating his romantic overtures seriously – he couldn't be doing more to remind her of their age difference if he tried! Perhaps she'd respond more favorably if he subtly reminded her how old he was getting. "The plans for my birthday party are going well," he offered. "Ada and Papa even sent invitations to Sam, Rose, and their children; Pippin and Diamond; and sent word to Merry to bring that Estella he's so keen on marrying."

"I hope they come," replied Findowyn. Eldarion's heart soared when he saw that she wasn't glaring at him.

"Me too," he said eagerly, "though it might take a few more weeks until we hear anything. Ada and Papa never sent out a real invitation to them for either Laurelin or my birthday celebrations before, but I'm turning thirteen. That's a very important birthday – I'll be a young man. It would be wonderful if everyone could be here to enjoy it with me."

"I want them to come too," chimed in Laurelin, feeling a little left out now that her brother was being civil. Frowning at the mess she'd made in Findowyn's hair, she abandoned the idea of making it look as nice as the older girl made hers and started weaving in braids that proved that the little girl was her ada's daughter. "You know, I've never actually _seen_ Sam or Pippin or Merry or any hobbit for that matter. They send me letters and presents, of course, and I've heard people talk about what they look like but they've never been to Gondor when I was around."

"Yes they have," Eldarion told her. "They were here when you were born. That wasn't so long ago; I still remember how we would all gather together at mealtimes and tease Pippin about getting engaged to Diamond."

"Huh," responded Laurelin while she twisted Findowyn's hair, invariably tying the strands into knots. "I wonder why they didn't come for this. Two babies are more exciting than one."

It _was_ strange, Eldarion had to admit. "I don't know; but then again a lot of things were different this time around," he said, suddenly struck by the truth of this revelation. He hadn't thought about the time when Ada was pregnant with Laurelin – his daerada moving in, being repeatedly told not to upset Ada at all, the many trips to the Houses of Healing, and Ada having to stay in that awful place and away from him for over a week before she was born – for awhile, but now that he was it seemed very curious indeed how dissimilar this time had truly been. "Maybe them being here was just a coincidence. I don't think that they were in Gondor for my birth; right, Findowyn?"

The young woman fell silent for a moment. "It's hard to recall; I was only the age that Theomir is now back then," she said slowly. Closing her eyes, she foraged through what memories she could find of that time. The hobbits _were_ there, during that year at least – she could remember playing with Sam's daughter Elanor almost every day. Rose had watched them often, sometimes alone and other times joining Eowyn. Of those times, one vivid memory stood out: she and the hobbit lass playing in the royal bedchamber under the watchful eyes of their mothers. Findowyn could see her younger self performing a sword trick that she'd thought was quite clever at the time and smiling at Legolas. The elf returned it even though he was so sad that he was sitting in a chair by the window without the energy to do more than clutch at his swollen belly as if he was afraid that someone was going to try to take it from him…

"They were here," she finally answered, confused by her seemingly innate eagerness not to delve any deeper into those memories. "I don't remember why, but I don't think they came because Legolas was pregnant although that might have been a reason why they stayed as long as they did. There were a lot of strangers in Minas Tirith during that time."

"What about all the visits to the healers?" pressed Eldarion. He'd never asked much about what was going on around the time he'd been born and no one had ever offered him many details. It just never seemed important before; however, the discrepancies between what had happened during the other pregnancies were intriguing and he was very curious to know which one his was more like. "Was Ada on special diets for me too? Did he travel in and out of the city like he did this time, or did he have to stay within the walls like he did for Laurelin? If he did travel, was Papa all right with this or did he yell like he did this time? What about Daerada – did he move into the citadel when Ada was pregnant with me? Did Ada have to spend so long in the Houses of Healing when I was born?"

There was absolutely no reason why any of these questions would make Findowyn feel so uneasy but they were. No one – not her parents, Legolas and Aragorn, Gimli, Thranduil, the advisors, the court, and even the people in general – really talked about Eldarion's birth except to say that it was a blessing and he was the king and prince's miracle child. There had always seemed to be an understood rule that the topic was off-limits and Findowyn had never been so interested in it that she ever tried to. She almost wished that Eldarion, Laurelin, and Theomir would start arguing again – at least she was comfortable with that.

"I don't know the answers to your questions, Eldarion," she told him awkwardly. "Like I told you, I was only four-years-old at the time. No one ever confided in me about Legolas' care, nor did I give the details that much attention. My abiding memories are of playing with Elanor, dividing our time between balrog slaying and tea parties."

"But you must have overheard something," said Eldarion. "Maybe your parents talking when they thought you were asleep?"

"I don't remember," she replied, her body automatically tensing as it always did when she was faced with questions that she didn't like. "Why are you so interested in this all of the sudden?"

"It just seems odd," replied Eldarion. "I remember when Ada was pregnant with Laurelin, and he and Papa talked about that time a lot since they found out that the twins were coming. They never talked about Ada's pregnancy with _me_, though; and I guess I was just wondering why that was. Do you think it's just because hers was the most recent, or did Ada have a lot of problems during that time?"

Small fingers fisted in Findowyn's hair, making the older girl wince. "You're so mean!" shrieked Laurelin, unaware that she was pulling Findowyn's hair in her anger. She was too used to Eldarion teasing her to realize that he wasn't trying to be rude when he asked if she was difficult to give birth to. "I'll have you know that Uncle Elladan told me that I was a joy to deliver! Ada and Papa probably just didn't want anything to happen to me after being stuck with only you for so long. In fact," she went on indignantly, "I bet it was _you_ who was such a pain to give birth to!"

The idea that something had happened while his ada was pregnant with him had never occurred to Eldarion before. "Is that true, Findowyn?" he asked earnestly. "Was all the stuff that Ada had to do when he was pregnant with Laurelin necessary because of what happened with me?"

Again Findowyn was seized by an uncomfortable feeling that she couldn't quite explain. She could remember going to the Houses of Healing right after Eldarion was born – she hadn't seen him, though; she wouldn't be able to do so until her second visit. The first time it had been very quiet in the building, as it had never been before or since and she had clutched Elanor's hand fearfully as their footsteps echoed through the corridors. Her mother had been waiting for them, her eyes red and adorned with dark circles. Findowyn could recall feeling disappointed when Eowyn had told her that no one could see Legolas, Aragorn, or the new baby that day. _"Legolas is very tired," _she'd said, though her voice caught. _"We're going to have to wait to see them when – when he wakes up."_

"Eldarion," she murmured hazily, still caught up in her memory. Half of her mind was still back there in that waiting area; she could hear as clearly now as she did back then the sound of sobbing – was that Aragorn? – coming from the healing chamber where Legolas had given birth even though her parents had told her that it would be awhile before the baby came…

"My prince! My princess!" shouted the voice of the guard who was standing watch in the corridor outside.

Darn! It sounded like he had almost gotten some information out of Findowyn. "What is it?" Eldarion demanded.

The door burst open, revealing the guard with a young boy at his side. "Please forgive the intrusion, Prince Eldarion, Princess Laurelin – my, you look so grown up with your hair like that; my apologies, Lady Findowyn, Lord Theomir, but this errand runner comes with wonderful news. Prince Legolas had given birth! He and the king send word."

The boy – Minardil, Eldarion recognized him as – had a huge grin on his face as he stepped forward. "It is a great pleasure and utmost privilege to inform you of the births of Princess Gilraen and Princess Meren of Gondor," he announced formally. "They and the prince are all well. Now it is the wish of King Elessar and Prince Legolas that Prince Eldarion and Princess Laurelin come at once to meet their new sisters."

"Yea, I have two sisters," gloated Laurelin smugly in a sing-song voice. "Things are going to be a little more even around here from now on."

"Just what I always wanted," said Eldarion half-heartedly, more responding to Laurelin's teasing on reflex than out of any annoyance or malice. He was more caught up now in what had become to him the mystery surrounding his birth. "Oh well; if I can put up with you I'm sure I can deal with them too."

"You're not going to spoil this for me," retorted Laurelin haughtily, secretly glad that her brother's attention was back on her instead of all that stuff about what happened before she was born. Why did it matter now? "Now I'm not going to be the only girl _and_ I'm going to have real babies to hold."

"They're not going to let you hold the babies," replied Eldarion as he and his sister walked out the door after Minardil. "You're still too young for that…"

Left behind in their wake, Theomir hugged the dolls to him as he looked at his older sister. "Legolas and Aragorn are going to let her hold the new babies, right?" he asked, sounding like he'd consider any decision to the contrary to be nothing short of a travesty.

Findowyn shook her head slowly. "I don't think so," she told him, still trying to sort through the memories of long ago. "I was only a little younger that what Laurelin is now when Eldarion was born and I wasn't allowed to hold him." She thought for a moment. "He was kind of small, though; smaller than Laurelin was, at any rate."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"They are beautiful," declared Faramir as he, Eowyn, Thranduil, and Gimli gathered around the bed. Legolas and Aragorn were still lying there, holding their newborn daughters and too excited to feel the effects of not getting a lot of sleep the night before. Elladan and Elrohir had already excused themselves, apparently too exhausted for any amount of excitement to make them forget sleep. "Just be prepared: there are some who'd hoped that at least one of them would be a boy. They would feel better if Gondor had, as the saying goes, an heir and a spare."

"Gondor already has both, though it would be folly to refer to Laurelin as a 'spare' in my presence," scoffed Aragorn. "Even if we were to have one hundred more boys I would not have any of them be in line for the throne before her. She is our second child! Numenor had high queens in its time and Gondor could accept it too if, Valar forbid, it should come to that."

"Besides, there will be no more male children," spoke up Legolas in a thoughtful tone. "I cannot say for certain if I will have any more children, nor how many more there would be if I did; but I have a feeling that Eldarion will be our only son, Aragorn."

Eowyn sat down on the bed facing her elvish friend. "I for one think that Laurelin would make a fine ruler. She has proven herself to be bold and strong –"

"Are you still going on about that?" interrupted Aragorn indignantly. "How many times and to how many people do I have to say that I _told_ her to punch any little boy who kissed her when she didn't want them to. If you ask me, the king of Dale should have taught his son more manners before bringing him here."

The lady rolled her eyes. "She's got a lot of practice at ruling too," she went on, choosing not to acknowledge anything that Aragorn had said. "She seems quite comfortable with giving Theomir orders."

"And your daughter could have my son wrapped around her little finger if she wanted," returned Legolas in a friendly tone. "Honestly, some of the advisors have been talking about Eldarion and Findowyn getting _married_, as if it was only a matter of time until it happens. He just finished potty training, for Elbereth's sake!"

"That was almost eleven years ago," Thranduil reminded his son. "Time passes much more quickly for Men than it does for elves. Eleven years is but a breath to our people but to them it is a significant number of years."

"Be that as it may, he's still my little boy," said Legolas, sounding very much like his father. "I need some time to get used to the fact that he's now old enough to receive real weapons before people start talking about who his bride should be."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Minardil was almost beside himself with shock as he walked down the corridor that lead to Legolas' room, followed closely by Eldarion and Laurelin. He'd been running messages for the monarchy and court for almost two years and, needless to say, had encountered many important people because of it. While most were nice or at least polite to him, the boy had always found it hard to believe that such people or rank and accomplishment were anything like him or the people in his normal life. Yet here he was in the company of the person who would one day be the king and said person was bickering with his sister in the same way that Minardil often carried on with his brothers. It was somewhat alarming and strangely comforting at the same time.

More practically, though, it eliminated the need for the errand runner to announce their presence. Before Laurelin, the last of their small company, had finished putting both her feet into the small outer waiting chamber the king called: "Good of you two to come! Now try to be quiet long enough to meet your new sisters."

The renewed promise of seeing babies spurred the princess ahead, past her decidedly more distracted brother and into the room where her parents were. Minardil, not knowing what else to do, paused to respectfully wait for the prince to enter the birthing chamber before going in himself. "Ooohh!" squealed Laurelin, already up on the bed. "They're so cute – so much better than any of my dollies!"

"Does that mean that you _wouldn't _hit me with one of them?" Eldarion couldn't help asking as he peered inquisitively at the bundles that his Papa and Ada were holding.

"Children!" scolded an exasperated Aragorn. "Your ada and I have been through a lot today; can we please finished out what's left of it without having to listen to you two bicker?" As he shook his head he noticed Minardil still lingering at the door. "Thank you for you dedicated service today, Minardil; you are now dismissed with our thanks."

"Thank you sire, but I can't be yet," replied Minardil politely. "The Council told me to tell you that a messenger from Dol Amroth came today with a letter of 'legal and personal' business from Prince Imrahil himself. I'm supposed to let him know when it would be all right to give it to you."

Legolas' face hardened. "Not today," he said. "Our daughters were born today. I don't want to have to know what this is all about right now."

"Sire?"

"We will receive him tomorrow morning," Aragorn told the errand runner stiffly. "Make sure he understands this and then just enjoy yourself for the rest of the day."

"Thank you, King Elessar, Prince Legolas," said Minardil. He bowed and turned, leaving without understanding what he'd really told them. He didn't see the way that Legolas pressed his lips together and looked down at the baby in his arms with an expression that told that he was thinking about another time; nor did he see the dark expression that passed over Aragorn's face as he clutched in the other infant closer to him. Eldarion did observe it all, though; and the questions that had begun stirring within him back in the citadel increased tenfold.

To be continued…


	5. The ghost of the past

The sun was shining through the windows that looked into the citadel of Minas Tirith. Inside the royal bedchamber a beam of light streamed through a narrow opening in the coverings of one such window, giving the room some illumination. Were it a normal morning Legolas and Aragorn might have pulled aside the drapery to fully take in the beauty of the glorious new day before setting out to do whatever tasks that laid ahead for them. Well, that or else they might have been still in bed, limbs intertwined, waking up with a mixture of confusion and serenity that would quickly turn to panic when they realized how late the morning was. More than a few mornings generally started with Legolas – who, being an elf, was the lighter sleeper of the two – shouting to drowsy Aragorn that they'd overslept as he was flying to the closet.

On that morning, however, neither elf nor Man experienced pleasant calmness or the hurriedness that they could find humor in even as they rushed to get dressed. It was not a normal morning. For one thing, Legolas and Aragorn had actually been awake and about since before the sun rose though they didn't have the time to take a break and watch it do so. They were too busy learning quite quickly how much extra care two infants would need, as Gilraen and Meren had kept them hopping all night long. It seemed like if one was hungry the other was in need of a diaper change. If Meren was asleep, Gilraen's crying soon woke her up (and vice versa). They'd spent more time in the adjoining antechamber where two cradles were than in their own bed because, unlike when Eldarion or Laurelin were babies, the couple couldn't take turns seeing to the twins' care since just two arms and two hands were never enough to take care of the problems at hand. Aragorn and Legolas thanked the Valar that both of their little angels were finally asleep so that they could get ready for what the day held.

Of course, even if there had been some miracle and the newborns had slept through the night Aragorn and Legolas still wouldn't have gotten much rest; for their minds were too preoccupied with other matters. One other matter, to be precise: the messenger from Dol Amroth, who bore a letter for their eyes only. The prospect of dealing with the ghosts of the past was not a pleasant one and it was a major reason why they weren't taking a moment to enjoy the new day.

What could Prince Imrahil have to say that couldn't have waited? Every ruler that Gondor had relations with must have known that the royal couple wasn't going to attend to any business that didn't promise total calamity if gone unheeded – had something terrible happened? Had _that woman_ escaped? Was she heading toward the White City even as they got dressed, plotting to kill Legolas and the children as she had a decade earlier? Would they be able to stop her in time if she had? There was no comfort in knowing that she was Gondor's most notorious criminal and exile; thirteen years had passed since anyone in the city had seen her and the chances of her being recognized were very slim. As long as they didn't know what the message said Legolas and Aragorn could at least pretend that it was just Imrahil taking extra precautions but once they read it they would have to deal with whatever horrible reality it told of.

All of this weighed heavily on Aragorn's mind was he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots. With a great sigh he leaned back on his hands and turned his head toward his husband. "Legolas – "

"No, Aragorn," interrupted Legolas simply, weariness and worry driving out any annoyance that the elf might have had about the question that was on the tip of his husband's tongue. He finished putting the last braid in his blonde locks before turning around to meet the Man's gaze. "Don't bother with any more words. I'm going with you to meet that messenger and I refuse to be persuaded to do otherwise."

"But you just gave birth yesterday –"

"Is that what was happening?" asked Legolas, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, that explains why two babies were _exiting my body_. I was quite curious about that."

Aragorn gave him a pointed look. "That's not how I meant it and you know that," he said testily.

"I do," sighed the elf, "and I'm sorry for my shortness. I guess I'd forgotten how demanding newborns can be; and this time we have more of them with less help. Do you remember after Eldarion was born? We were lucky if we got the chance to hold him for a few minutes an hour! The same was true with Laurelin – the hobbits, my father, Gimli, Faramir, and Eowyn were always there. I suppose they think that we've had enough practice to keep everything under control now."

"Mela…"

"Well, the four of us are still alive so I guess we have a handle on things," Legolas continued on. "Last night gave me a new gave me a new appreciation for Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian, let me tell you! And now we have to deal with this…"

"But you don't have to deal with this right now," argued Aragorn protectively. If he'd had his way, Legolas and the babies would still be in the Houses of Healing. He was dismayed when the prince refused, bad memories triggering his stubborn nature. Losing the debate the day before made him all the more determined to convince Legolas to stay with children and rest now. "The messenger won't be offended if you weren't there to receive him. No one said anything about both of us needing to be there. He's probably not even expecting you to be present; many new parents stay abed for days after giving birth."

"Yes, but those were all Mannish females," countered Legolas. He put down his comb and rose, walking over to the bed to stand beside his husband. "I am a male elf. You must know as well as I do that my body's capacity to heal itself returns to its regular strength very quickly after the end of a pregnancy. Elladan and Elrohir examined me themselves before I left the Houses and they said that I'm quite well and recovering nicely."

The king wasn't going to have to keep as calm and rational if possible if he was going to talk any sense into the elf. "But your body isn't back to normal yet," Aragorn pointed out.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

He should have known better than to think that bringing up the need for Legolas' body to recover was the right approach to take. Legolas, despite trying for years to acknowledge that he had limits and admit when he'd reached them, was still instinctively defensive if anyone even implied that he might not be physically up to doing something. Unfortunately it was the best argument that Aragorn had at the moment. "It takes a couple of days for your birth canal to fully close," he stressed, knowing deep down it was a futile effort but feeling the need to point it out anyway. "You've always rested until that happened before."

Legolas gave him a hard look. "With Eldarion I _had _to," he argued. "In fact, I seem to recall being unconscious until it was more than halfway healed –"

"I remember," interjected Aragorn wryly. Indeed he'd never forget the first twenty-four hours of his son's life when Legolas lingered between life and death while he sat at his bedside, holding the baby in his arms and contemplating how he would be able to raise him on his own should the worst happen.

"And with Laurelin," the elf continued, though his expression softened when he saw the pained look in his husband's eyes, "I think that we can both agree that we took more precautions than were necessary."

"That doesn't change the fact that you did rest," replied Aragorn, "and nothing bad happened because of it."

"My dear husband," laughed Legolas gently. He sat down and took the Man's hands in his. "I had to contend with a newborn baby and a seven-year-old who was disappointed that we brought home a girl instead of a boy while you left to deal with the Council and the court. If that's what you deem as _rest_ then may I suggest that you get plenty of that kind of _rest_ and I meet with the messenger."

"Legolas," crooned Aragorn tenderly as he drew his hands out of the elf's grasp, raising them up so that he could cup and caress his husband's face and neck. "I should have been more help to you back then."

Legolas sighed. "I didn't say that to make you feel guilty," he said. "You were supposed to agree that I'm not a dainty little invalid and stop pressuring me to stay here all day."

"I know that you're well enough to listen to whatever news that Imrahil has for us," admitted Aragorn begrudgingly. "I suppose the problem is that I don't see why you want to. You were so – vehement about not hearing it yesterday."

"Because our daughters had born not two hours before!" cried an exasperated Legolas. "Even if I'd have cared to have any sort of unpleasantness mar that occasion I wasn't exactly in the best condition to receive the information. Having a stranger parading into my birthing chamber, oddly enough, didn't really appeal to me."

Aragorn swallowed hard, trying to bury the anger that had been swelling in him since the errand runner told them of Dol Amroth's messenger, lest he explode at the wrong person. "One day makes do no difference to me," he said in a deliberately calm and low voice. "One day, one week, one month, one year – it doesn't matter! That woman – she already – she was gone – I didn't even think – and then –"

"I know," said Legolas sympathetically. "After Eldarion was born I thought about her several times a day. I would be holding him, feeding him, changing his diaper, trying to calm his cries, or whatever else; and then suddenly I would find myself back in the garden, listening to her tell me that my baby had to die. As time went on I would only think of her once a day, then once every few days, and so on until my thoughts rarely strayed to the lady at all."

"Rarely?"

"She was never completely gone," confessed Legolas quietly. "One thing or another would bring on the memory of her. Usually it would be when Eldarion was doing something for the first time; when he lost his first tooth, as he squirmed through his first Council meeting, the first time I saw him handle a real sword. I would watch him grow up before my very eyes and suddenly remember how if she'd had her way he would have never done any of those things; she never wanted him to have a life at all."

"You never told me about any of this before," noted Aragorn in a whisper, confused and a little alarmed. He and his husband had decided a long time ago to share all that was troubling them with one another. The strain of trying to protect each other had once put their marriage in jeopardy and neither of them wanted to go through that ordeal again. He hated the idea that Legolas had decided to suffer those memories in silence rather than confiding in him.

"Was I wrong to assume that she weighed as heavily on your mind than it did on mine after Eldarion was born?" asked Legolas. He smiled a little when Aragorn gave him a look that told him that his assumption was indeed correct. "We had many long conversations about our fears and concerns back then."

"But I didn't know you still thought about her."

"It wasn't as if the memory of Lady Nienor _plagued_ me," Legolas sought to assure him. "There were just times that something would happen to make me think of her. It didn't happen very often and it left my mind almost as quickly as it came when it did. It hardly seemed worthy of mention."

Sighing a little, Aragorn allowed his hands and arms to slip down so that he was holding his husband in his embrace. "You said her name," he observed with no accusation in his tone.

"Yes I did," confirmed Legolas. Neither of them had uttered the name of Lady Nienor since a few days after their son's birth. It had been an unspoken understanding rather than an official agreement, created when the emotional wounds that she'd inflicted had still been too fresh. Now, however, it felt like the arraignment was more of a hindrance than a help. "She – _Lady Nienor_ – has become the nameless fear in our lives. We've been giving her the same power that she'd have over us if she was still at large in Gondor. I mean, look at how we handled my pregnancy with Laurelin – we acted as if she were lurking in every shadow, waiting to pounce."

"We never did come right out and say why we were so anxious back then, did we?" Aragorn asked with a dry chuckle. In the back of his mind he could still remember breaking out into cold sweats at the first bite that Legolas took each meal. He could see himself refusing to leave his husband's side for more than an hour or two at a time, and running around like a madman in search of him after he attended any business that had separated them. He'd told himself back then that he was just nervous because even if they'd learned a lot about male pregnancies the last time Legolas had yet to have a good one and therefore needed the extra protection. Now he could admit that it was the shadow of the would-be assassin and not the other health-related problems that was vexing him so much.

"Every precaution we took, the fear we endured; it was all because we let Lady Nienor more important than she actually was at that point, in prison and out of Gondor," said Legolas. A sad, almost wistful expression danced across his face. "You know, I didn't think about her much at all this time. Oh, there were little reminders her and there but before yesterday I hadn't thought of her in weeks. This was supposed to be the first time that I gave birth free from her influence and now look what's happened: she's managed to work her way through our happiness and spread her shadow once again. Can't we just enjoy _one_ birth without her hanging over our heads?"

"Yes," replied Aragorn with a sudden resolve. "I swear to you, Legolas, that today will be the end of all of this nonsense. We will deal with whatever Prince Imrahil has to say about Lady Nienor and then we'll do whatever it takes to put her behind us forever. Bah! Listen to us going on about her and 'her shadow' as of she's just as powerful as Sauron was. She was a deranged young woman who took advantage of various opportunities to get to you when we didn't know any better, for the Valars' sakes! You were right, my love – we make her more important in our minds than she really is."

"You would do well to remember that," Legolas told him with blank-faced innocence. "I generally am right about all things. I have years of experience that you can never hope to get – it makes me wiser about everything."

A playful smirk twitched on Aragorn's lips. "Is that so?" he asked, moving his head so that their mouths were only an inch apart. "Then why do I distinctly recall me teaching you a thing or two on our wedding night?"

"That doesn't count," countered Legolas as the tension slowly drained out of him. "You were just utilizing the wisdom that your brothers passed down to you when your father wasn't listening."

Aragorn lovingly nudged their noses together. "Would it be useless for me to disagr-"

His voice was cut off when Legolas grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a searing kiss. Moaning in response, Aragorn gently pushed his husband down so that he was lying on his back on the bed with the Man on top of him. It was nice – therapeutic even – to take a minute to kiss like they were still newlyweds without a care in the world and the couple certainly gave it their all. Aragorn could feel the world melting away around them; there were no longer problems with would-be assassins, newborn twins asleep in the antechamber, or anything else. Life itself was nothing other than their two bodies, so close together that they were almost one…

"By Aule, are you two supposed to be doing that so soon?" demanded an incredulous dwarvish voice. "Give the laddie a chance to recover, Aragorn! He doesn't need you begetting more children on him – make do with what you have now for awhile."

Legolas pushed Aragorn's shoulders, reluctantly wiggling out from under his husband. "Gimli," he said, giving the interloper a censoring look. "And Ada," he added, nodding curly to greet Thranduil, who was standing beside the dwarf with his arms crossed and a bemused look on his face. "Are you two incapable of knocking? It really doesn't take much time or effort. What if Aragorn and I had been otherwise occupied?"

"We thought that the babies were asleep and did not wish to wake them," Thranduil offered in way of an excuse. "And it appears that we were right about that. Since you two are to meet with that messenger in a few minutes we guessed that you would be impatiently awaiting our arrival. If you had been, as you put it, otherwise occupied you should thank us, for now you will not be late for your appointment, my Little Greenleaf."

"And besides that," added Gimli with a shake of his head. "I mean, really! You can't be fully recovered yet, Legolas. That kind of 'occupation' can't be healthy for you right now."

"I don't know about that," said Legolas just to be difficult and almost laughed out loud when identical looks of annoyance came to Thranduil and Gimli. It served them right; why did they feel the need to be so overprotective all the time? "But still, Aragorn and I really must go if we're going to get to the throne room on time."

The couple let out a simultaneous dramatic sigh as their forced themselves to stand up. "Have fun with the twins," the elf prince informed them. "Their diapers and other necessities – except for the food, of course – are in the cabinet by the cradles. They were changed less than an hour ago, though, so you probably won't have to worry about that for the time being."

"We put them down maybe forty-five minutes ago," chimed in Aragorn. "That's the longest they've ever slept, so don't be surprised if they're awake and wanting something fairly soon. Most likely it will be food, as it's been a few hours since the last bottle. You'll need to send for more of it from the kitchen."

"And don't forget about Eldarion either," added Legolas. "Laurelin's off with Eowyn and Theomir but our dear boy is wandering around here somewhere. If he goes off without telling you, let us know. And make sure that he stays away from the weapons room – he's developed a fondness for trying to break into there."

"Will you listen to them, friend Gimli?" asked Thranduil in his best put-upon voice. "You would think that they were leaving their precious children in the care of two imbeciles. How quickly they forget that I raised a child on my own for 3,000 years – one that too was overly curious about the weapons room. Oh, I shudder to think about who they are leaving our dear grandchildren with that makes the 'food is in the kitchen' instructions necessary."

"All right, you win," conceded Legolas with a laugh. "Enjoy spoiling your grandchildren rotten and telling them embarrassing stories about their parents. This shouldn't take too long, but we promised to report the message's content to the Council afterwards. Feel free to interrupt if there's some sort of emergency."

Gimli's eyes were steely and his mouth set as Legolas and Aragorn disappeared out the door. "Good luck," he wished them for lack of anything better to say. When the door closed he deflated a little and smiled. "Well, Thranduil, are you thinking what I'm thinking? There are two adorable, perfect babies just waiting for us to wake them up."

"Honestly, have you forgotten everything you once knew about infants?" Thranduil mused, exasperated. "One must never, _ever_ wake a sleeping baby, Gimli."

"Why not?" wondered Gimli aloud. "It doesn't harm them in any way."

"No, but it does, well, it wakes them up," Thranduil told him. "Meren and Gilraen will inevitably be fighting sleep with every last bit of their will whenever someone attempts to up them down; let us then not tempt fate by not allowing them to sleep when they are willing to do so."

"But then it could take awhile before they wake up," the dwarf pointed out. ""What could we do the pass the time until then?"

A knock on the door just then made the question moot. "Oh dear," breathed the elven king, rushing to the antechamber with Gimli close at his heels. Over the sound of two babies crying he yelled: "What is it?"

The door cracked open just enough for a familiar face to peer in. "I'm sorry," apologized Eldarion right away as the noise coming from his baby sisters threatened to give him a headache. "I guess this really isn't a good time."

"Wait, Eldarion," Thranduil called after him as his grandson vanished from sight. After a second the boy's face appeared again. "The babies don't seem to be hungry; I believe that they are just cranky and wish to be held. Is there something that you need? Do you wish to go somewhere?"

"I have a few questions," hedged the boy. "Would it be possible for us to talk right now? If it isn't, when will it be?"

"Listen to the boy, making appointments to see his own grandfathers," said Gimli with a tsk as he sat down in one of the two side-by-side rocking chairs near the cradles with Gilraen nestled in his arms. Thranduil followed suit with Meren. "There's nothing stopping you from speaking now, my lad. What's on your mind?"

"Babies, but not these two," answered Eldarion, gesturing to the infants. "You see, yesterday Findowyn, Laurelin, and I were talking and the conversation led to what I guess you could call a comparison between what happened when Ada was pregnant with Laurelin and what happened this time. We were going to compare mine to, but we couldn't."

Thranduil wasn't sure if he was comfortable with where these questions were leading. "And?" he prompted uneasily.

"And I realized that I know next to nothing about my own birth and the months before it," explained Eldarion in a rush. "Please, Daerada, Grandpa Gimli; I must know something! What was it like when I was born? How did Ada, Papa, and everyone else prepare for it beforehand? And why has no one told me stories about this time before?

To be continued…

_A/N: I must really like you people – I got home late after a trying weekend with the family and still typed this chapter up so that I could post it on time. I do appreciate all of you who take the time to read it, especially those of you who also review. Thanks!_

_We'll find out what the message says in the next chapter, I promise!_


	6. Message received

Considering the messenger from Dol Amroth's eagerness to speak to them, Legolas and Aragorn half-expected to see him waiting for them as they approached the entrance to the throne room. However the only person who was standing in the corridor that led into that grand hall was one of the older (and, in the couple's eyes, most trusted) royal guards. "My king, my prince," greeted the guard Beren when he spotted them. He bowed deeply without moving out of his appointed position.

"Good morning, Beren," replied Aragorn while Legolas echoed the sentiment with a murmur. The Man discreetly glanced around from side to side for any sign of the city's visitor and raised his eyebrows slightly when he saw nothing. "I assume that everything is ready for us?"

"Yes, your majesty," answered the guard promptly. "We received orders from the Lord Faramir yesterday and I made sure that they were carried out to the letter. The court has been informed that we will not be allowing anyone to enter unless you give word to do otherwise; the guards posted at the entrance to the citadel have been instructed to tell anyone who comes with a petition the same. No one will be disturbing you while you meet with the messenger, sire."

That wasn't exactly what Aragorn meant by his question; in fact, he hadn't thought about taking care of all of that at all. Not for the first time he thanked the Valar for giving him Faramir as a steward, for Aragorn was certain that he would be in dire straits without the other Man acting as his right-hand. That was not to say that Aragorn wasn't a fine king on his own merits – Gondor could not have asked for a better ruler – but Faramir was very meticulous, intuitive, and possessed a keen understanding about how his lord's mind worked. He knew when Aragorn was too upset and/or distracted to notice the smaller details – such as seeing to it that a private meeting wasn't constantly interrupted by a barrage of requests that could wait – and make sure that they were taken care of. On this particular occasion he'd only had a brief discussion with Aragorn while Legolas was gathering what few things he had in the Houses of Healing in order to move back to the citadel. Watching his king nervously watch his husband out of the corner of his eye, Faramir had silently ascertained what Aragorn felt was best in terms of receiving the message and all that there was left for him to do was to decide how to go about it. Aragorn couldn't have wished for a better steward – or friend.

"Thank you for your pains and are sure that you fulfilled your orders well," Legolas thanked the guard, who nodded in appreciation of the compliment. "But the messenger is not here. Is he waiting for us in the throne room?"

"He is waiting, but most certainly not in there," Beren assured him as if horrified at the very suggestion. "Bergil has been keeping an eye on him since he came into the city and will continue to do so until you send for him. None of us would imagine letting anyone associated with…_her_ to set foot in the throne room without your expressed permission."

Such suspicion! Apparently any business concerning Lady Nienor brought out the worst of it in the best of people. Everyone who'd been around back then must have been buzzing ever since the unexpected visitor to the city had been identified as a messenger from Prince Imrahil. Aragorn and Legolas weren't the only ones who were emotionally scarred by the events of the past – the guards from that time, trained and expected to keep the royal family from all harm, still turned white and grew very quiet whenever the situation was even hinted at.

Beren, who'd been one of Legolas and Aragorn's personal guards and commander of the guards of the citadel, had taken the assassination attempts as a biting indictment about his abilities as a leader. He had become an even more diligent and attentive guard because of it; not even Faramir thought of many of things that Beren considered to be possible scenarios when planning out protection details. No one slipped through the nets that Beren cast out. "He is being kept in one of the designated waiting room," he continued. "I thought it best, as we know nothing about the way in which he was acquainted with the lady."

As comforting as it was to Legolas that his children were being protected so well by this Man, he found that all of the implications about a possible conspiracy were making him anxious as well as more than a little exasperated. He didn't like the idea of treating a guest of the city as a virtual prisoner for doing nothing more than carrying a message from his liege lord. "We appreciate how careful you are when it comes to our safety," the elf stated diplomatically, "but please don't find it necessary to treat him as if he were a dangerous criminal. His is but the unfortunate bearer of bad news, not the cause of it."

"Of course, Prince Legolas," said Beren, sounding properly contrite. "I should probably apologize to him for my – zealousness."

"I'm sure he understands," said Legolas kindly.

"Yes, well." Beren coughed uncomfortably, as he would never get used to the times when either Legolas or Aragorn broke the formality that their positions called for to be directly nice to him. "Do you wish for him to be escorted to you now?"

Aragorn bobbed his head once. "We want to see him as soon as possible, but just let him come to us without an escort unless he requests one," he ordered. "We should be ready to receive the messenger by the time he arrives in the throne room."

"Yes, my lords." With one last bow Beren hurried off.

Man and elf waited until he was out of sight before proceeding into the magnificent hall where their thrones sat side-by-side on a platform at the top of a small staircase. Aragorn had stirred up quite a bit of controversy almost immediately after his coronation when, after noting that there was no proper place for Legolas to be when the court was open, he commissioned the creation of a new throne. That in itself wasn't so unspeakable – the steward also had a throne in the hall – but the positioning of it horrified many: the new king intended to have his husband sit next to him as if they were equal partners in ruling Gondor.

Objections were raised before the order went out. This had never been done before, was the main argument, not even when the ruler's spouse had come from a prominent and respected family of Minas Tirith, and this particular spouse was of a strange race from a strange land. Such a move undoubtedly fed the Council's misgivings about the influence that the peculiar elf would wield over the king. Their disapproval only spurred a rather petulant Aragorn on and Legolas had been forced to take matters into his own hands. While never technically going against his husband's decision, the prince shrewdly saw to it that his throne was noticeably smaller so that the king would still sit higher than him. The incident had marked a change in how the advisors viewed their new prince consort and set the foundation for a good working relationship between them.

Aragorn remembered the whole affair with a mixture of satisfied defiance (he didn't give up the freedom of living outside of a city of stone to be second guessed so soon on what he saw as a petty controversy), wry chagrin (at his undeniably childish reaction to the criticism), and warm pride (at Legolas' handle on the situation) as he and his husband ascended the stairs and sat on their respective thrones. Fingering the carvings that adorned the arms of Legolas' seat the Man smiled. "Don't shoot the messenger, huh?" he asked good-naturedly, consciously trying to relieve the tension of waiting.

"It's an ancient policy that my father taught me when I was but an elfling," replied the elf as the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward.

"Where in Middle-earth did he come across it and why didn't he follow such a policy in Mirkwood?" Aragorn wanted to know. "Don't tell me that it was – I distinctly recall winding up on the business end of many an arrow when the rangers and I brought a message from Mithrandir there – when was it now? – 85 years ago."

"Complain, complain, complain," groused Legolas dramatically, not really annoyed or upset at all. He knew what Aragorn was trying to do and appreciated his efforts. "You should have exercised a little more caution than stomping unannounced into the realm. No one got shot! You even got a kiss later that day."

"Not our first," said Aragorn happily, for he would always count the peck on the cheek that Legolas give him when he was only ten-years-old as their first kiss. "Though it was most definitely a memorable second…and third…and, well, you remember; once we started again we just couldn't stop."

The smile slid off of his face a little. "I truly love you, Legolas," the Man professed earnestly. "You give me love, joy, support, and everything else – including four beautiful children. I'm sorry that I can't give you a far less dramatic life in return."

"I'm not – I'm fairly certain that I'd have been bored out of my mind by now if you had," replied Legolas. "I wish that messenger would hurry! I think that it's the not knowing that's driving us both to distraction. I'm sick of speculating about the bad and the worst; I just want to be able to deal with the 'is'."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

The poor messenger shuddered inwardly as the heavy doors slammed behind him, leaving him alone with the legendary King Elessar and Prince Legolas of Gondor. When the assignment had first been announced the young Man had leapt at the chance to bring the message so that he could meet them. Now he wished that he'd paid more attention to all of the warnings from some of the others, those who had witnessed firsthand how sensitive the Gondorians still were about the assassination attempts on their prince consort. The icy, almost revolted, greeting he'd received upon arriving at the gate; the unwavering supervision of a guard who had to be at least a few years younger than him; and the general air of hostility that seemed to follow him wherever he went had made his time in Minas Tirith almost unbearable. Honestly, one would think that he was smuggling the Lady Nienor in under his cloak! His enthusiasm about speaking with the king and prince had faded considerably and all he was looking forward to was going back home.

First things first, however; he had a duty, entrusted to him by Prince Imrahil himself, and he had to see it out. The messenger bowed mutely toward the platform where King Elessar and Prince Legolas were seated, waiting for them to recognize him. "Good day, young Man," said Aragorn immediately. "You may come forward."

"I thank you, great monarchs of Minas Tirith," replied the messenger. He walked forward slowly, not daring to look up at them.

Legolas noticed this and smothered a sigh. "We understand that you bring a message to us from your noble prince, but first I must beg your permission to give you an apology," he said, smiling as the startled Man looked up at him. "Our guards take their task to protect us seriously, but they were wrong to treat you with such antagonism. I am sorry for that and hope that this experience will not cause you to remember us or Minas Tirith in a less than favorable light."

"I – I – I – accept," stammered the messenger. He stared at the prince and realized that he'd never been in the presence of anyone nearly as fair as he. Immediately he hurried to the bottom of the stairs and bowed down on bended knee. "You are as gracious as you are beautiful, Prince Legolas, and that is quite a feat indeed. May the Valar bless you, and King Elessar too! Oh, it is I that should be apologizing to you for coming so late."

Aragorn cleared his throat to keep a snort from coming out. Legolas certainly had a way of charming people and endearing himself to others but this was getting absurd. "There is no need for that," he assured him. Legolas, realizing how close his husband was at bursting out with laughter, reached over and squeezed his hand warningly, though in a way that the messenger would only interpret as loving. "You got to the throne room right when we wanted you to."

"I do not speak of today," replied the messenger as he rose to his feet. "Prince Imrahil meant for you to get this letter before your daughters were born. I set out from Dol Amroth with plenty of time to spare but unfortunately the harsh weather of last week delayed me on the road for several days."

They were supposed to get the message before Legolas went into labor? All of the amusement over the young Man's reaction to Legolas drained out of Aragorn immediately as his mind went to every horrible reason as to why that was. Had the lady escaped? Did the prince discover that she had allies or accomplices within the city? Had they needed to have extra security? Having gone uninformed, would Gilraen and Meren have to pay the price? Inside he was shaking with fear, anxiety, and anger but his outward demeanor stayed steady and stoic as the messenger climbed the stairs and laid the letter in his hand. "Do you have any idea what this is all about?" the king asked as he broke the seal.

"I have a fairly reasonable guess," was the messenger's answer.

Taking a deep breath Aragorn unfolded the parchment and read. When he was done he blinked, first at the letter and then at the messenger, before turning to his husband. "We're both just two silly fools," he stated simply.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Legolas as the messenger let out a little gasp.

"Here," said Aragorn, handing the letter over to the bewildered elf. "This will make it very clear. Prince Imrahil is a fine Man; a loyal ally, good ruler, and dedicated friends; not to mention very perceptive. You can tell that he's Faramir's uncle, as this is exactly what Faramir would do if he were in the same position. _Of course_ he'd want us to know about his before Gilraen and Meren were born." He then smiled down at the slack-jawed messenger. "Don't worry; the prince was not offended because I called him a silly fool. If I really wanted to make him mad I'd call him the Sun Star."

Legolas was too engrossed in reading to glare at his husband for his jest. His eyes widened when he was finished. "Oh."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"What?" gasped Eärnil in disbelief, goggling first at the king and then at Legolas.

"Lady Nienor is dead," repeated Aragorn calmly. "She died not two weeks ago."

"That's – that's – that's – very surprising," stuttered Belecthor as he tried to wrap his mind around what happened and what it might mean. "Did the message say how it happened?"

Aragorn looked at his husband, who'd taken the spot he normally sat at during a meeting of the advisors' Council. While the Man understood and appreciated Legolas' reasons for making sure that his position on the Council wasn't seen as any more influential than the others he really wished that the elf was standing by his side. He was a little worried about Legolas' subdued reaction to the news; and would have happily accepted a little extra support for himself. "She hung herself in her cell one night," reported Aragorn.

"Dear Valar," breathed Tanondor, clasping his hand over his mouth.

"Why would she do such a thing now when the time of her release is almost at hand?" demanded Malvegil suspiciously as he crossed his arms. "Did Prince Imrahil bother to investigate this so-called suicide?"

"How else could she have ended up hanged?" Eärnil asked him harshly.

"I wouldn't put it past someone to murder her and make it look like she did it to herself," shot back Malvegil. "There were a lot of people who wanted to see her locked up for life and even more who thought that she should have been executed. One of the more – _assertive_ – people with that mindset could have resolved to take matters into their own hands to make sure that she was never free again. Someone might be getting away with murder because they counted on everyone not caring enough about Lady Nienor's death to look into it!"

Aragorn held up his hand. "Silence," he ordered. When the buzz of conversations and debates died down he continued. "Lady Nienor appears to have had her reasons for ending her life. She was not quiet during her imprisonment; she'd been making plans since she was first exiled. Now that her release date was so close she shared them with whoever was in listening range."

"She was planning to return to Minas Tirith," spoke up Legolas with such calmness that it amazed Aragorn. The Man's blood had been boiling ever since he'd read that part of the letter, but Legolas had acted as if he hadn't expected anything else. "Lady Nienor still believed that she was supposed to be the queen of Gondor. She couldn't wait to come back and spoke often about 'starting things over with King Elessar after cleaning the slate'."

"Meaning that she intended to kill you," said Belecthor gently.

Only then did Legolas' expression darken. "And my children."

"Of course the guards reported all of this to Prince Imrahil," said Aragorn, mindful to keep his voice steady. He'd shown her mercy; Legolas had openly and honestly forgiven her; and still she plotted to destroy their lives. "Her insane ranting finally got so terrible that the prince decided to pay her a visit. There he informed her that he would be sending word here, advising that it would be in everyone's best interest if I extended her sentence indefinitely."

"At first she didn't believe that Prince Imrahil could make such a thing happen," added Legolas. "She was so confident that I was using the children and some vile type of magic to control the king and that once we were all eliminated he'd be more than happy to marry her. Prince Imrahil took great pains to convince her otherwise."

"And she understood?" asked Arvedui in confusion. "Or else he didn't? I'm sorry; I still don't see why she killed herself."

"He failed to talk her into giving up her fantasies," answered Legolas quietly. "But she did finally realize that King Elessar would take his recommendations to heart."

Tanondor's face was as white as the snow-capped peak of Caradhas. "Is that when she…"

Legolas nodded solemnly. "Two guards found her the very next morning," he said. "They cut her down as quickly as they could but it was already too late to save her."

"This is inconceivable," Eärnil carried on. "Why did the prince feel the need to send word about this while the twins were being born?"

"He composed his letter right after seeing the lady's body and sent out the messenger before lunch on the same day," Aragorn told him. "In it he said that he knew that we tended to think about her when we had more children and wanted us to know that she would never be able to harm any one of us ever again. We _should _have gotten it about a week about a week ago but the storms we've been having made traveling especially slow and treacherous."

"I can't believe she's dead," said Eärnil in a soft tone. "She and my daughter played together when they were children; now my daughter is a mother and Nienor is a…." His voice trailed off when he felt many pairs of eyes on him. "Forgive me."

"No need for that," Aragorn reassured him. "I know that most of you were at least acquainted with Lady Nienor since she was a child. It is all right to feel sadness about her passing and regret at what her life had become. We will adjourn for today so that everyone can collect themselves and meet tomorrow at our usual time."

Aragorn walked over and sat down next to Legolas as the advisors filtered out, still speaking urgently. "Are you sure you're all right?" the king asked.

"I'm fine," answered Legolas a little sadly. "I guess…I guess I was just hoping that she'd be able to move beyond what she thought that her father needed her to be."

Aragorn had spent years trying to figure out why his husband felt so much sympathy for the lady, and never to any avail. "For what it's worth," he said carefully, "I don't think that Cirion's expectations were the only source of her madness. She probably had problems already that those just emphasized."

A shadow fell over the couple before Legolas could respond. They looked up at the interloper. "What can we help you with, Eärnil?" asked Aragorn.

"I apologize for the interruption," said the advisor. "But I wanted to ask you to do something and I'd like to give you a chance to think about it for awhile before giving me your answer at tomorrow's meeting."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Eldarion was so frustrated that he could scream. How could he have spent so much time – at _least_ an hour and probably more – trying to get answers and still not have any results? "Please?" he begged his grandfathers for the countless time.

"No, Eldarion," said Thranduil firmly. "If your parents have not chosen to share this with you then we cannot do it either."

"I won't tell them that you told," promised Eldarion eagerly. "I'm good at keeping secrets. I haven't told anyone _yours_, have I?"

For years there'd been speculation that Thranduil and Gimli were lovers. The pair enjoyed the stir all of it caused far too much to reveal the true nature of their relationship either way. The only person who knew was Eldarion; they'd confided it to him to cheer him up when the boy had been feeling neglected after Laurelin's arrival. "That's true," admitted Gimli. "However, that was ours to tell. Wait for your parents, lad, and then question them until they can take no more. I'm sure you'll get your answer then."

"Fine," sniffed Eldarion, not caring if he sounded a little disrespectful. "I guess I'll just wait in my room."

He marched out of the room and closed the door behind him, too annoyed to give his grandfathers a proper goodbye. How could they treat him like a little child? No wonder Findowyn was having trouble seeing him as a mature young Man.

He was about to continue with his miffed act by stomping down the hall when something caught his eye: someone was standing a little ways off in a shadowed corner. The person was wearing a cloak – odd on such a hot day – that made it impossible to see his or her face. However, Eldarion was certain that whoever it may be was staring at him, waiting for him. A chill ran down the young prince's spine and he instantly decided to go back in with Thranduil, Gimli, and the babies. Secretive grandfathers and whiny babies were nothing compared to creepy strangers, especially when he was unarmed. There was no shame in it; his parents had always instructed him of charging head-first into danger without first considering all the possible honorable alternatives.

Eldarion turned around and scrambled to open the door, all while wondering if he should tell them about the lurker. That apparently wasn't necessary, though; when he glanced over his shoulder to see what was going on the person wasn't no longer there.

To be continued…


	7. Undetected storms

When he and Legolas finally got out of the meeting hall Aragorn realized that he hadn't been in such a good mood in awhile. It felt like a large boulder had been removed from his chest and he could breathe again. The message had not been news that his family was in further peril – in fact, the exact opposite; that they would have to face that particular threat again – and he managed to report to the Council that Lady Nienor was dead without letting his emotions spill all over. Now he didn't have anything to worry about, not even Eärnil's request. Aragorn knew that he wouldn't hesitate to grant it the next day at the Council meeting, especially since he himself was already considering doing what Eärnil wanted even before the trusted advisor had asked him.

That could wait, though. He didn't want to think about politics or anything else other than his children and the gorgeous elf at his side. "Let's do something tonight," suggested Aragorn, taking his husband's hand affectionately as they walked at a leisurely pace back to the royal quarters.

Legolas cocked an eyebrow and raised up their united hands as if to examine them more closely. "An intriguing proposition," he said ponderously, running the knuckles of his free hand over their interwoven fingers. "Do you have anything in particular in mind?"

Aragorn carefully twisted his wrist so that Legolas was facing him and flush against his body. Before the elf could tease or scold him he captured his lips in a deep, prolonged kiss. "Something fun," declared Aragorn, breaking their mouths apart just enough so that he could speak.

Tearing his hand out of the Man's grasp, Legolas grabbed either side of his face and drew Aragorn back into another passionate kiss. "I like the sound of it already," he breathed against his husband's lips. "Tell me more."

"Well, it's something that we haven't done in awhile," hinted Aragorn. He slipped his arms around Legolas and ran his hands up and down the prince's back. "Something that I know we would really enjoy ourselves doing."

"Elessar Telcontar," scolded Legolas teasingly. Aragorn buried his face into the crook of the elf's neck and grinned. Legolas didn't often use his husband's kingly name, claiming that he had already had to make himself adjust to one name change when the Man went from being Estel to being Aragorn and he couldn't possibly get used to another new moniker. As a result the word 'Elessar' fell from his lips only when he was in a formal setting, being playful, or when he was utterly disgusted with Aragorn.

Well, he'd called him 'Elessar' on one other occasion: it was in the throne room with no one else around and nine months later the Laurelin was born. Since they weren't in a formal setting and he was fairly certain that he wasn't in any trouble, anyone could have easily understood why Aragorn was so encouraged by this response. "Yes, my dearest love?" the Man asked.

"I hope you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting," purred Legolas. "Because, while that's an _exceedingly_ tempting offer, I'm afraid I'll have to put my foot down and say no. The idea of becoming pregnant again after just giving birth isn't really appealing."

"Who said anything about getting pregnant?" Aragorn asked, pressing gentle kisses into a tender part of Legolas throat.

"Aragorn…"

"You do realize that you're actually agreeing with your father and Gimli right now," Aragorn reminded him. He ran his lips up Legolas' neck, up the side of his face, and started nibbling his ear. "You don't like doing that, do you?"

The elf leaned into the caresses and let his eyes roll shut. "Aragorn, love of my life," he gasped, struggling to keep control of his thoughts as the Man delicately took the tip of his ear into his mouth. "You should know that I only like disagreeing with them when they're around to react."

Aragorn couldn't help but smile again as he tenderly kissed the elf's ear and pulled back. "You're terrible," he noted in a melodramatically sad voice. "Not only are you so openly defiant to your own father and the dwarf who gladly calls you his son, you also set out to seduce your poor husband just so that you can later torment him with rejection."

"Excuse me?" asked Legolas with a laugh. "Who's trying to seduce who here?"

"And now accusations!" tsked Aragorn. "Oh merciless Sun Star! Say, that reminds me of something I heard long ago."

"Don't you dare, Aragorn."

Aragorn pretended not to hear him. "Yes, I'm afraid that I feel a song coming on."

"Aragorn," said Legolas warningly as he bit his lip to keep from chuckling. "If you ever want me to sleep with you again, you'll fight that feeling."

Leaning over to kiss the tip of the elf's nose, Aragorn looked chagrined – for all of two seconds. Then the wicked glint in his eyes returned full-force. "Now how did that go?" he pondered aloud. "I _think_ it went something like this: _'Oh unreachable Sun, how cruel you are in your beauty/ In your eyes is the sea that drowns all except my desire for thee _–"

Legolas shuddered as he flashed back to the many times that he'd been forced to listen to metaphor-laden declarations of love as a youth. He could never understand why otherwise rational beings would think that anyone would want to sit through all of that but apparently the troubadours believed that the Sun Star – the perfect being that they'd made up in their minds but still believed him to be – would appreciate it. "I was but an elfling when someone came up with _that_ monstrosity," he mused fondly. While he hated the song as much as the rest, the best moment of all of those dull sessions had come directly after he'd heard it. "Ada took exception to anyone declaring to _desire_ me and had that troubadour escorted rather roughly out of Mirkwood. All the songs and poems after that were _extraordinarily _chaste. Now my husband is using the words of someone who lusted after an elfling to punish me for not going to bed with him."

"I never said anything about going to bed," corrected Aragorn, never breaking eye contact with him. "I was thinking that we could go to the grove of trees on the first level of the city."

"Oh, Aragorn," responded Legolas in mock outrage. "To our talon? Yesterday – _yesterday_ – I gave birth to two children and today you want to take me back to the very place that they were conceived? I feel the need to reiterate: I love our children and creating them with you was quite wonderful but I have no desire to be kept perennially pregnant."

"My love, all I just heard was an obvious, if implied, praise of my astounding virility," grinned Aragorn, his chest puffing a bit with pride. He quickly seized the elf's lips once more before Legolas could respond and eased them open so that he could massage his husband's tongue with his own.

It wasn't often that Legolas would allow himself to be cut off in such a manner, especially while they were verbally sparring, but he decided to make an exception this time. After the tension of waiting to hear the message, the frazzled night catering to their new daughters, and the emotional drain of learning about Lady Nienor's death, he found himself more than willing to submit. In Aragorn's kisses and touches was the power to make him forget everything except how attractive his husband was and how much he wanted him. While nothing, unfortunately, could come from it at that moment, he had to admit that Aragorn's way of silencing him was extremely pleasant.

The kiss ended slowly and afterwards they rested their foreheads together. "Seriously now – and don't try to distract me!" he added playfully as he felt the elf's hand slide down his chest to his stomach, about to creep down even further.

"I couldn't resist," smiled Legolas.

Aragorn took the errant hand between both of his and drew it to his mouth, kissing it. "You're in a teasing mood, I see," he commented. "It's nice to know that you still can't resist me after all of these years. Now listen: I was thinking that we could take the children down to the tree grove after supper this evening. We'd bring baskets for the twins to sleep in while Laurelin and Eldarion play. It's been awhile since we've climbed trees with them."

"And by 'we' you mean _you_," stated Legolas flatly, his mischievous humor fading fast. He hated the idea of being stuck on the ground while the Man tarried in the trees with their eldest children. Every part of his wood-elf body objected to it. "One of us will have to stay close to the babies, after all."

Aragorn looked him straight in the eye. "Actually, I'm planning on being the one to look after Meren and Gilraen while you three climbed," he corrected with no rebuke in his tone. He couldn't really blame Legolas for jumping to that conclusion after the years of overprotective behavior he'd been subjected to during and immediately after his pregnancies. "I won't get to spend nearly enough time with the babies soon enough so I'd like to get as much in as I can when the opportunities present themselves. Besides, we probably shouldn't be having me inflict my inferior knowledge in the art of scaling tress on the children without you by my side to fix the damage."

"Let me see if I'm hearing you correctly," said Legolas in genuine disbelief. "I just gave birth, my birth canal is not yet closed, we've had a rather stressful morning, and two of our children are vulnerable infants. Yet in spite of all of this, you almost seduce me out of my clothing right here in the corridor –"

"Really?" interrupted Aragorn excitedly as his chest swelled up again. "And just how close were you to shedding your garments?"

Legolas pushed down gently on the Man's chest as if to deflate it. "That's not important because it's not going to happen," he told him. "Anyway, you get – amorous – with me and now you're suggesting a family outing in a public place. Who are you and what have you done with my real husband?"

Unfortunately Aragorn couldn't seem to find the right words to explain this no matter how much he groped for them. "I'm still me," he finally assured the elf. "It's just – well, you're fine even after this morning so I'm sure that you won't collapse or anything like that if we do something that's even less stressful. Your birth canal might even be closed by tonight anyway…"

Watching him struggle with his words, Legolas could tell that the time to tease his husband had come and gone. Without another word he pulled Aragorn into a chaste and comforting embrace. "It feels safer, doesn't it?" he asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer. "A lot of the danger that you've perceived in the past doesn't seem as threatening now that Lady Nienor is dead."

"It's irrational, I know," confided Aragorn, unconsciously snuggling closer. "There was absolutely no way that she could have affected the way that your body healed; and there's really no difference in how safe you and the children are now that she's dead when compared to when she was exiled and imprisoned. Still, now that I know for certain that she will never be able to harm any of you ever again it feels like a terrible threat has been conquered. That makes no sense, does it?"

"I can understand you very well," Legolas promised him. "And no, it's not rational; but it is human and there's no shame in it. There have been times when I've felt the exact same way: never forget, melanin, that I once believed that I was protecting you by not telling you when I became mortal or when I was experiencing what turned out to be morning sickness. Reason was against those as well, as I knew that you wouldn't be happy when you found out that I was hiding such important things, but that didn't stop me. Most people instinctively protect first and debate the rationality of it all later."

"Amin mela lle, Legolas," Aragorn whispered in his ear, deeply moved. "Just when I think it would be impossible for me to love you more you make the impossible happen. Thank you for not being exasperated for believing on some level that she could cause you to bleed to death by somehow hindering the healing of your birth canal."

"She did make me bleed once," remembered Legolas darkly. He tightened his arms around his husband as if to ward off bad memories. "Oh, I don't want to think about this right now, Aragorn! I just want to spend the rest of the day with you and our children."

"So…does that mean that we'll be having some family fun in the tree grove?" Aragorn wanted to know.

Legolas started to nod enthusiastically but then hesitated. "Yes, but wait," he added firmly, holding up a hand to cut off Aragorn's giddy response. "We should keep this very low-key, Aragorn. Let us not forget who Lady Nienor was. Most of the nobility watched her grow up while many of the other people will be thrilled to hear of her death because they think she deserved it. It shouldn't seem as if we're celebrating her demise; there's no need to outrage the former group or to encourage any malevolence that the latter group holds."

"Respectful neutrality," agreed Aragorn. "Yes, I think that's our best option as well. All right then, no loud parties or rambunctious shouting or anything like that. We'll just be a family coming together to reflect upon the passing of a difficult time in our lives – by climbing trees. You must grant that it's a great idea."

The elf brushed his lips against Aragorn's cheekbone. "It is," he concurred. "One of your best ones to date."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

'_It's a shame that I have to stand so far away from them,'_ thought the cloaked figure, observing the royal couple interact. _'I can't hear a word that they're saying – though I can guess, seeing how they paw at each other where anyone could see them. What lowbrow behavior, especially from the monarchy. I must make due with just watching, though; they cannot catch me until I've done what I've set out to do.'_

Hopefully Prince Eldarion would keep quiet about what he saw outside of his parents' bedchamber. Judging by the way that the boy was carrying on, the individual felt reasonably sure that the young prince was too much in a snit to feel incredibly forthcoming. _'I shouldn't have gone to see him anyway,'_ the person lamented. _'I need to get everything ready before the rest can happen. Taking care of just Prince Eldarion now would ruin everything; he'd be dispatched but then security would tighten around the others and I'd never succeed at this. No, I must find a way to get all four children at once!'_

Still, the individual couldn't help but go see the crown prince as the news of Dol Amroth spread. After all, Prince Eldarion had been the catalyst for this whole mess. The person knew that it was important to see him while constructing the plan to do what could be done to correct the situation. It was hard to get over how she'd lost everything when Eldarion was created, and for no other reason then loving the wrong Man. It was a harsh price to pay and the person knew that it needed to be set right.

The individual couldn't help but give a little eye roll as King Elessar and Prince Legolas kissed for the countless time. _'How are they not tired of each other yet?'_ A hand pushed the cloak away as far as the figured dared to. _'Well, they do look good together. I suppose that if I aged as well as an elf or a Numenorian I'd inspire lust for decades too. It is a pity that the king had to ruin himself in such a way and bring the situation down to this. King Elessar will probably survive losing the children – he is only their sire and all – but Prince Legolas will surely be driven mad. Not even the Valar will be able to save his sanity.'_

Nor should they try; when it happened the Valar should be focused solely on saving Gondor. It would be a hard blow to all; for if the plan was a complete success the great realm would never have a descendent from the line of Elendil sitting on the throne again.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Gimli let out a silent sigh as he settled a sleeping and deceptively angelic looking Meren down into her cradle. "Such powerful lungs," he declared in amazement.

"Yes," agreed Thranduil, setting back in the rocking chair next to the sleeping Gilraen's crib. "They inherited them from my Little Greenleaf. The trees of Mirkwood used to quake whenever he cried."

The dwarf sat down in the chair next to his and let his head fall down onto the arm. "My ears are ringing," he lamented. Thranduil laid a comforting hand down on top of his hair.

It was at that moment when Legolas and Aragorn finally returned. "Will you look at that, Aragorn?" asked Legolas quietly so as not to wake his daughters. "Meren and Gilraen are just as we left them. Our precious daughters slept the entire time we were away, didn't they?"

Gimli gave him a pointed look. "Hardly," he gruffed. "And where have you two been? According to your own promises you should have been back an hour ago!"

"It took a few minutes to actually get in the same room as the messenger," replied Aragorn only a little defensively. "Remember the days when we couldn't seem to find a competent guard to keep people away? Well, now they're all over. And after that we had to explain everything to the Council. _Then_ we listened to a request made by the Lord Eärnil after the meeting for about a half hour. After that – well…"

"Well what?" Gimli wanted to know.

"We kind of took our time making our way back here," confessed Aragorn. "There didn't seem to be any hurry."

"I take it then," Thranduil spoke up, "that the news from Dol Amroth was not ill." He looked into his son's eyes and frowned at the regret he saw there. "Or perhaps that would depend on who we asked."

Aragorn was trying to be sensitive to the fact that Legolas felt pity for Lady Nienor – he truly was – but he wasn't about to mourn for the person who'd tried to kill his husband and eldest child on two separate occasions and would have attempted it again if given half the chance. That's exactly what she would have wanted him to do and he'd be damned if he'd let her win in the end. "It's over," he reported, not bothering to filter out the relief in his voice. "It's finally really over. Lady Nienor is dead and she will never have the opportunity to harm this family again."

"Who's Lady Nienor?" asked an unexpected voice coming from the doorway between the antechamber and the bedchamber.

The Man cringed a little and looked at his son. "Eldarion," he said a little nervously. "We didn't know that you were here. You shouldn't…. Why didn't anyone tell us that you were here?" he added his voice getting more strained with each word. "There are some things – sometimes we say things – not suitable for such young ears…"

"What your papa is trying to say," Legolas broke him, crossing the room and kissing Eldarion on the top of the head, "is that you should let us know right away when you're in here. You're welcome, of course, but there are times when Papa and I are doing and discussing things that are inappropriate for you to witness, like now. We would have preferred it if you hadn't heard that."

"Why?" demanded Eldarion irritably. His mood was souring fast. It was one thing for his fathers to just not get around to telling him about himself; it was quite another to be deliberately trying to hide the truth. The implications were making his stomach sink. "I just asked a simple question: who is Lady Nienor? Actually, I guess now that I've overheard like you didn't want me to I have two questions: who is she and how did she try to hurt our family? Can you two tell me the truth for once?"

"Eldarion," warned Legolas, "I don't care for your tone. You'd do better to tell us about the occasion on which you feel that your father and I have lied to you instead of hurling vague accusations at us."

"So you're going to avoid my questions," commented Eldarion with sarcastic sadness. "Another secret, huh? How many does that make?"

"Don't speak to your ada in such a manner," Aragorn told him darkly. "I'm in a good mood right now but that can change very quickly if you continue to behave so rudely."

Eldarion looked back and forth between his parents as the frustration and hidden fear of having so many reasonable questions evaded for so long swelled inside of him. He'd hoped to be able to burst out with a really clever and pointed retort but, to his dismay, tears were stinging his eyes instead. "I'm not a little kid anymore," he said in a trembling voice.

"This has nothing to do with your age, Eldarion," said Legolas.

"No it doesn't!" the boy cried. "Laurelin's only five and you've told her everything!"

"But your sister knows nothing about Lady Nienor," protested Aragorn. She'd better not, at least; if someone had told her the whole story without his consent he'd kill them.

"_I don't care about some lady!"_ exploded Eldarion. Gilraen and Meren's eyes flew open and they started wailing again. _'Join the club,'_ he thought bitterly. "Laurelin knows everything about her birth from the moment you found out that you were pregnant with her to the first time that she spit up on me. Why can't I know the same things about me? Why –"

His voice cut off as it broke. No, this couldn't happen; he wouldn't cry in front of them when they were the reasons for his tears in the first place. He wanted to run back to his own bedchamber and hide but his parents and grandparents were blocking the way. With no other alternative he ran back into the royal bedchamber and slammed the door.

Aragorn and Legolas stood dumbstruck in his wake. "Valar," said Aragorn at last. "Eldarion – the babies –"

"Gimli and I will take care of the girls," said Thranduil, already reaching into Gilraen's cradle. "Eldarion needs you two right now."

Nodding a silent thanks to his father, Legolas took Aragorn's hand and together they followed their son's path into their bedchamber. What they found in there broke the elf's heart: Eldarion sat on the foot of the bed, his face buried in his hands and his body shaking with sobs. "Ion nin?"

"You didn't want me, did you?" asked Eldarion miserably, turning his tearstained face up toward them. "That's why you never talk about being pregnant with me, and why you waited for so long to have Laurelin: you weren't happy that I was coming."

"No, no – oh, no my sweet Little Acorn," protested Legolas, upset enough to revert to using Eldarion's babyhood nickname. He rushed over to his son's side and threw his arms around him as if to shield him from the hideous notion. "Nothing could be further from the truth. It's just…"

"It's just that there were parts of the story that are difficult to explain to a child," supplied Aragorn, sitting on Eldarion's other side and drawing his husband and son closer to him. "But you're right: you're not a little kid anymore and keeping it from you appears to be doing more harm than good." He looked over at Legolas, who closed his eyes and nodded. "I do believe that the time has come for you to hear the whole tale, Eldarion."

To be continued…


	8. Complicated

Now that they'd resolved to tell Eldarion everything, however, neither Legolas nor Aragorn seemed very willing to start talking. The former drew their son closer and let out a weary sigh as he rested one of his pale cheeks against the boy's head. The latter rubbed Legolas' back with one hand and awkwardly massaged Eldarion's shoulder with the other. A general heavy and uncomfortable silence fell over the bedchamber as both adults sat lost in their thoughts.

Trapped between his parents' embraces Eldarion shifted as best he could. "Well?" he asked with a few sobs still left in his voice. While he wanted to believe that his fathers would never lie to him outright, he wasn't yet quite convinced by their protestations that they did want him when he was born. Aragorn and Legolas hadn't made a habit of lying to any of their children but Eldarion wasn't reassured by their sudden quiet and could be forgiven for doubting their honesty.

"Forgive us, Eldarion," said Aragorn. He ceased moving both of his hands and let his head fall forward until he was resting his brow against the back of his son's head. "There's so much to this tale that it would be difficult to know where to start even if we had practice in telling it. As it is, we haven't recounted this to anyone, including each other, for a long time."

"I've always thought that the best place to begin a story is at the beginning," suggested the boy plaintively.

"Ah, but this is one of those tales that has several possible beginnings," said Legolas thoughtfully, rolling his head so that now it was his chin that was touching the top of Eldarion's head. He mulled over each possibility for a few seconds. "I suppose that the best place to start here would be between five and six months into my pregnancy."

He could practically feel the boy bristling. "Why, I wonder?" Eldarion asked, half spiteful and half insecure. "Are you trying to skip over the part where you two cursed the Valar for inflicting me on you?"

"No!" Legolas admonished him, his voice kind but leaving no room for arguments. "I didn't just pick any time to start this story off; it wasn't until I was five or six months along that we discovered that you were on your way."

Eldarion was positively floored. "You didn't find out until _that_ late?" he marveled. "But that's crazy! There were so much you worried about when you were pregnant with Laurelin, and even with the twins too, that everyone was so adamant about being vital to your health. How did you know to keep a careful eye on how many vegetables you were eating and how much you needed of each one?"

Legolas shook his head. "I didn't."

"Well, what about making sure to get extra rest and limit your traveling?" pressed Eldarion, remembering how angry his papa got when Legolas took him and his sister to Ithilien during the earlier part of his latest pregnancy. "Did you do that?"

Another shake of the head answered that question. "Most definitely not," replied Legolas with a mixture of regret, proud defiance, and nostalgia. "In fact, I spent most of the months of my pregnancy before I actually found out about it traveling between Gondor and Bree."

"You mean you went all the way out by the Shire?" asked Eldarion incredulously. He'd never actually been anywhere near Bree or the Shire – it was pointless to travel to the land of the hobbits, as it was closed to the Big Folk, and his ada and paper were unyielding in their decision that he should be older before setting foot in the somewhat rough Mannish settlement of Bree – but he knew enough about geography to know that it was a long way away.

The many leagues must have seemed especially long for his ada while he was having violent morning sickness. "Wasn't that hard on you, Ada?" Eldarion went on in a more sympathetic tone. He was old enough to remember that Legolas had been just as sick as he had been with the twin while he was pregnant with Laurelin. In fact, the boy had a vivid recollection of petting his ada's hair and cursing the child that was making Legolas so miserable while the elf vomited. "You always get so ill when you're pregnant."

"Yes, yes it was," Legolas told him emphatically, his stomach slightly queasy at the memory of it. "I spent nearly every morning bent over behind bushes – "

"And trees," chimed in Aragorn.

"And even once in my horse's stall," concluded Legolas.

"But you didn't even have the slightest clue that you were pregnant?" asked Eldarion skeptically. That didn't seem very likely to him; after all, elves never got sick like Men did unless something else was influencing their bodies. "Even after all of that throwing up in the morning?"

Aragorn felt his stomach twist up into knots. This wasn't even one of the hard parts of the tale, but he knew that they were coming and he hated how helpless that made him feel. "No, we didn't," the Man answered. "Eldarion, you must understand something: until your ada and I found out that you were on your way we didn't think that we could have children of our own."

An astonished Eldarion was rendered speechless. "You thought that Ada was" – he paused to grope for the word that he'd heard discussed by the healing women and whispered by catty female courtiers as they gossiped – "_barren_?"

"Not exactly," hedged Legolas, struggling to figure out how to explain everything. "No male elf had given birth since the beginnings of Sauron's rise in the Second Age before I had you. Everyone had just assumed until then that the Shadow had robbed us of that ability – imagine our shock when you came along to disprove that!"

And so that had to mean…. "It's true then," said the crown prince resignedly, feeling absolutely wretched. "You really _didn't_ want me. It's not even as if you knew it was a possibility and decided to chance it – you really didn't think that it could happen. I was the ultimate accident."

"That's not true," countered Legolas in such a fierce voice that it made Eldarion a little nervous. "Never, _ever_, say that again, for I will not tolerate anyone calling my son an accident – even my son himself. You're right in saying that we didn't think that my getting pregnant was a possibility but that doesn't automatically mean that we didn't want you."

"But I intruded on your lives," protested Eldarion miserably.

There had to be an easier way to make the boy understand! "Eldarion," said Legolas, his eyes lighting up a little as he thought of something. "Do you remember how you felt when your papa gave you that fancy hunting knife that I'm not supposed to know about?"

"You, uh," Aragorn coughed, his cheeks turning slightly red. "You know about that?"

"I know everything about my children, Aragorn," replied Legolas flippantly, giving the Man a pointed look before turning his attentions back to his son. He and Aragorn could hash out the keeping secrets and reasons why the Man thought that he'd outright disapprove and forbid it later; right now Eldarion needed them to present a united front. "Well, ion nin?"

"Sure," answered the boy uncertainly, not really understanding what the knife would have to do with an unwanted pregnancy. "I was really excited."

Legolas nodded sagely. "But you never asked anyone for it," he noted. Eldarion wordlessly shook his head in the negative. "Well, I guess that means that you didn't really want it then, huh?"

"No!" Eldarion quickly objected. Maybe his ada was planning on punishing him for ruining his life by tricking him into giving up the wonderful weapon. "I just never asked for one because I thought that you two would tell me no. That doesn't mean that I didn't want it! It's a great knife; I treat it respectfully by always taking care of it, I've never threatened anyone with it, and I haven't used it in a reckless way. Please don't make me give it back, Ada!"

"Believe me, ion nin," said Legolas with a twinkle in his eye. "If I was going to do anything of the sort I would have already before you got too attached to it. I just wanted to think about how you felt then when you try to understand how I felt when your uncles told me that I was pregnant. I never planned on having a baby because I thought that Eru and the Valar would tell me no, even though there was nothing that I wanted more in Middle-earth than a child of my own. Imagine how you felt when your papa gave you the knife and increase it countless times over and then perhaps you _might_ have an inkling of how I felt when I realized that the child in my dreams and waking visions wasn't just a figment of my imagination. You were a gift, my Little Acorn; my miracle."

For the first time since he broke down in front of his parents Eldarion returned Legolas' embrace. "Thank Elbereth," the boy whispered gratefully, burying his face into Legolas' neck. The elf felt a few hot tears against his skin and instinctively rocked his son gently. "I was so – so scared. I thought that you two hated me because I came when I wasn't supposed to."

"Eldarion Telcontar," scolded Aragorn fondly, though his heart broke a little to think that his precious son thought that they could ever feel anything but love for him. "Wherever did you get such a ridiculous notion? When have we ever done anything that told you that we hate you?"

Eldarion faltered for a moment as he pulled away from his ada just enough to be able to look at Aragorn. "You yell at me sometimes," he finally said hesitantly. "And you get mad and ground me too."

"Because there are times when you do something wrong and need to be punished," said Aragorn as he kindly but firmly seized Eldarion's chin and urged the boy to look him in the eyes. "Loving someone doesn't mean that you let them get away with everything – we scold you and punish you at times because we want you to be safe and grow up into an adult that everyone is happy to respect. Know that we've loved and adored you since before you were born, Eldarion. Why, I didn't spend over two months debating with myself and others about baby names because I wasn't happy that I was about to become a father."

The boy was about to start chuckling along with his papa about how foolish he'd been acting when a realization stopped him cold. Eldarion knew exactly one thing about his birth and if that one thing was true then either there was a mistake in the addition or else someone else was lying to him. "Wait – you only thought about what my name was going to be for two months?" he inquired slowly, trepidation returning to his tone. "But even if you were six months along, Ada, that still doesn't add up to nine. I remember when you two were talking about what to name Laurelin before she was born. Papa, you said that Daerada came up with my name _after_ I was born because you and Ada couldn't come up with anything that seemed right. If you were so happy about having me then why did you wait for so long to start thinking up names?"

"We didn't, Eldarion," said Legolas quietly with a melancholy expression on his face. The elf looked at his husband, who clenched his jaw. "You were born about a month early."

Eldarion's heart stopped for a second. He'd heard about babies who were born that early: there were some that died and others who remained small and sickly for all of their lives. Maybe that was why Findowyn wouldn't look at him twice. "What's wrong with me?" he asked fearfully.

Legolas understood immediately what he meant. "Absolutely nothing," he said definitively. "You are healthy, strong, and perfect. Elvish babies are much more capable of recovering from being born early and you are more than half an elf."

"That's good," breathed Eldarion in relief. "But how could something like that happen?"

"I was beside myself with joy about my condition," the elf attempted to explain, selecting his words carefully. "But it was still a difficult pregnancy, Eldarion. No one knew what to expect and what I needed because no male elf had been pregnant in an age. Elrohir and Elladan certainly never learned how to take care of someone in my condition and the healers of Gondor didn't even know that any male elf had ever been pregnant. The twins spent a long time researching everything that they thought might be important while everyone else had to make do with guessing as best they could."

"In the meantime," added Aragorn, knowing that it was best to be upfront with all of the details now rather than having Eldarion dragging it all out of them little by little and feeling betrayed by their silence. "We were still adjusting to our lives here. It was about that time that your ada and I stopped going out on orc hunts all the time and we didn't like the idea of having to stay in Minas Tirith on such a permanent basis. It was quite a switch for us."

The boy creased his brow, wondering what that had to do with anything, but held his tongue. "There was also a gigantic gathering of many of the leaders of Middle-earth taking place here," Aragorn went on. "As you can imagine, I was kept really busy. I also didn't have a good working relationship with the advisors' Council – which your ada wasn't a member of until a little later – or the best personal one with your daerada. As a result I was away from your ada so much that I'm ashamed to think of it now and he in turn wasn't happy with how I was never around and the way I acted around Thranduil. All of that proved to be very stressful."

"A lot of parents are under a great deal of stress and their babies aren't born a month early," argued Eldarion. He felt very uneasy all of the sudden, as if he was just struck with the realization that he really wasn't going to like what his fathers were about to reveal. "Something else must have happened." He went over things in his mind and suddenly knew. "Something that involved that lady you were talking about earlier, the one that you didn't want me overhearing anything about. What was her name, Lady Nienna –"

"Nienor," Legolas corrected him, unconsciously grasping his belly protectively. Speaking about this with his son was an almost surreal experience and he couldn't help remembering quite keenly the fear and helplessness he'd experienced during that week between the lady's attacks. "Her name was Lady Nienor. She was – well, she had a sickness –"

"She was stark raving mad," interrupted Aragorn a bit sharply. While he respected that Legolas had some sympathy for that terrible woman he couldn't bear listening to him defend her to their son. Eldarion was already feeling insecure as it was; how could the boy understand why his own ada didn't hate the lady who tried to kill them both when Aragorn himself didn't? "Her father was an advisor back then, and he was the worst kind of ambitious. He told her that she was going to be the wife of the most powerful Man in Gondor and, after I became king and married Legolas, that at least she was going to be my favorite mistress and the mother of my child. She believed him wholeheartedly and decided that I wasn't married to her because I was under some strange elf spell – the same spell that made your ada pregnant and 'robbed' her of her chance to bear the heir to the throne."

Eldarion's insides twisted as his mind ran through all of the terrible things that he could possibly be about to hear. He was reminded of the time that his papa warned him against breaking open a beehive. _"You may see what's inside and what it's all about," _he'd warned, _"but think about the number of stings you'd get doing it before you decide that it's worth doing."_ That's how the boy felt at the moment: stung until it hurt all over with half the hive still swarming at him.

Still, he'd come too far to let it go now. "You said that she couldn't harm this family again," he recalled softly. "Please, tell me what she did before to hurt us. I have to know."

Legolas cupped his cheek and turned the boy's head so that they could look directly at each other. "Before we do that, ion nin, I want you to remember that you and I are fine." Eldarion nodded and the elf plunged ahead. "She poisoned me, my little Acorn, when I was a little over seven months along."

Eldarion let out a horrified gasp and Legolas grabbed his shoulders firmly. "We're _all right_," he reiterated. "She didn't do a very good job of it. My body rejected the poison almost instantly and it didn't have enough time to hurt either of us beyond a little pain and some more vomiting."

"How could anyone do that to a pregnant person?" wondered Eldarion in sheer terror that there were actually people out there – not monsters or orcs or anything like that, but _people_ like everyone else – who were capable of doing something so heinous. His stomach dropped like a stone when he saw a stormy look pass over Aragorn's face. "And that wasn't even the end of it, was it? She wasn't caught right away and she didn't give up after her first attempt failed?"

"No, baby, she didn't," answered Aragorn tenderly, caressing his son's face with one and holding Legolas' hand with the other. "She was very determined in her insanity and – confronted your ada in the garden when he was there all by himself."

"What did she do?" Eldarion felt panic rising within him when neither of his parents spoke up. Aragorn just looked worriedly at his husband while Legolas turned his eyes downward. "Tell me! I can't see how it can be any worse than being poisoned. You've been doing so well; don't start treating me like a little kid now –"

"She told me that my baby had to die!" burst out Legolas in anguish. "She pulled out a knife and got in a lucky swing while I was still processing what was going on. What more do you want to know, Eldarion? Do you want me to tell you how I felt when I realized that she managed to cut my stomach? Because I can, down to the last detail." A few tears escaped from the prince consort's eyes and his hastily brushed them away. "I thought that she'd killed you, ion nin; and the only other time that I've ever felt as terrified and wretched was when I thought that your papa was dead before the Battle of Helm's Deep during the War."

Feeling ashamed of himself, Eldarion finally understood: Ada and Papa hadn't chosen not to speak about that time in their lives because they didn't want him, but because it evoked painful memories of being afraid of losing him. "I'm sorry, Ada; I'm sorry, Papa," he apologized tearfully, throwing his arms around Legolas and kissing his cheek. Legolas squeezed him back tightly, as if he was afraid that someone was going to try to snatch him away. "I should have known better than to think that you didn't want me."

"It's all right, Eldarion," said Aragorn, kissing the back of his son's head. "We know that this hasn't been easy on you either."

"It turned out fine in the end though, right?" asked Eldarion in a small, hopeful voice. "You obviously did end up catching her."

"The very day of the second attack," confirmed Legolas, pressing a kiss into the top of his head. "She was exiled and imprisoned; and has never set foot in Gondor again."

"That's good," said Eldarion as he gently wiggled out of his ada's embrace so that both of his parents could see him smile at them clearly. "You definitely didn't want to be worrying about something so awful when you were giving birth. It would have cut into your bickering time."

Apparently they hadn't finished hashing through the most painful memories of Aragorn and Legolas' lives. The couple froze and Eldarion felt his laugh die on his lips. "There's more," the boy said without a doubt in his voice."

"My Little Acorn," started Legolas cautiously. The crown prince braced himself. "We – well, we told you that you were born early. No one expected me to deliver early and so we weren't prepared for it."

"No male elf had been pregnant since the Second Age," Aragorn reminded his son. "Your uncles were away researching the topic and almost missed the actual birth. It was a good thing that they were so thorough, though, because no one here knew what was supposed to happen. We were lucky to have both their knowledge and them show up in the nick of time."

He _really_ didn't want to hear this but Eldarion couldn't help asking. "How so? What happens in a male birth that would make it so different from others?"

Aragorn swallowed hard. "There's – more – more bleeding," he said. "A special poultice is applied to the skin to control it and no one but Elladan and Elrohir knew about it. Without it..."

"I see." Eldarion's voice was suddenly both cold and utterly devastated. Aragorn and Legolas reached for him but he jerked away and leapt to his feet. "That explains a lot: you didn't tell me because you didn't want me to know what I had done."

"You didn't do anything, Eldarion," said Legolas with a mixture of desperation and resoluteness.

"I almost killed you, Ada," said Eldarion quietly and in pain. "I'm – I'm so sorry for doing that, and then being rude today, and for making you tell me when you didn't want – oh, just for everything!"

The boy ran away then, out of the room and across the antechamber. "Eldarion!" called Legolas after him but the boy was too ashamed to face his ada. All Eldarion wanted to do was hide in his bedchamber forever.

"_Eldarion!"_ Legolas practically screamed, rushing out into the antechamber with Aragorn at his heels only to see the door slam shut.

"Hold a moment," said Thranduil quickly, hurrying over to catch his son's arm before Legolas could follow. "Take a deep breath and tell me what happened. You will not do Eldarion much good if you confront him in this state."

"I have to, Ada," said Legolas distraughtly. "He thinks he's to blame for how bad off I was when he was born. I have to tell him that he was the one that saved me…"

Thranduil pulled Legolas into a comforting embrace. "He is not ready to understand that at the moment," he advised soothingly. "Give him time to deal with all that you have just told him; then he will be able to truly listen."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

That night Legolas stood by the window in his bedchamber, staring at nothing really while Aragorn stirred restlessly in the bed. Eldarion hadn't emerged from his bedchamber for lunch or dinner and had refused to eat the food they'd sent up to him. Instead of the whole family having fun at the tree grove as the couple had happily planned that morning, the evening had been full of quiet anxiousness. _'Why is this happening?'_ wondered Legolas miserably. _'Why must my baby suffer for things that were beyond his control? Will we ever break free of this part of our past or will it always influence what the future may hold?'_

"My love?" asked Aragorn, breaking through his husband's musings. "Would you mind closing the window? It's freezing in here."

"The window's not open," replied Legolas. "In fact, I was just about to ask you if you wanted me to open it – it's quite warm –"

"Don't do that!" cried Aragorn quickly. Shivering violently, he drew the covers up around him. "Come to bed, I beg you. I can't imagine how you cold you are! Why, I'm almost like ice and I'm used to feeling cold; and you only feel it when you're pregnant."

That didn't sound right at all: did Aragorn really think that he was still pregnant? Alarmed, Legolas hurried to his husband's side. Aragorn certainly didn't _look_ cold, as beads of sweat were running down the sides of his face and his hairline was damp with perspiration. The prince reached out to cup his cheek and gasped when he touched the skin. "Aragorn," he said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. "You're burning up."

To be continued…


	9. Fevers and chills

Aragorn sighed in blissful relief when he felt one of Legolas'wonderfully warm hands hold his cheek while the other one stroked his freezing forehead. How silly had he been, thinking that a closed window would be sufficient in holding off this unnatural chill? Nothing – _nothing_ – would ever compare to the heat that forever radiated from his husband. Even mortality hadn't been enough to permanently rob the elf of his innate warmth and the Man knew why: that's just who his husband was. Whether he was snuggling closer to Aragorn to keep him warm on a cold winter's night, offering comforting words after something particularly difficult had happened, or kindling a fire in his husband's body through the most intimate joining, Legolas was _heat_.

Never before had Aragorn needed the heat that was his husband so badly. "Hold me, my love," he pleaded. "Make me feel warm again."

Legolas was torn. Every impulsive instinct that he felt just wanted to take the Man into his arms, kiss him all over, and somehow magically heal him just by loving this strange, sudden illness away. However, he was also a practical being and intellectually he understood that while their love was powerful enough to change Middle-earth it wasn't quite equipped to successfully treat something like this. Moreover, the prince knew enough about healing and mortals to realize that sharing body heat with a feverish person probably wasn't the best idea.

With one last regretful caress, Legolas pulled his hands back. "Aragorn," he began as he started to move away from his seated husband.

The Man caught one of Legolas' arms and pulled that wonderful source of heat back toward him, nestling his head against the elf's stomach. "You're so warm," he murmured happily. His tone reminded Legolas of the first time that little Laurelin had ever seen a real baby: awed, elated, and so achingly tender that it made him want to hold him in his arms forever. "Is it to be wondered that they call you the Sun Star?"

"That's not how I got that title," replied Legolas gently. "At least, that's not what all the songs were about."

"Because they didn't know you," said Aragorn softly, pressing a kiss into his stomach. "All they could see was your golden beauty, but I – I am your husband. You share the heat of the sun with me and only me. Oh, my dearest, loveliest, most desirable love! The barest of your most tender touches, one flash of yearning in your eyes, is enough to melt the snow off of Caradhas."

"You don't remember the last time that we were on Caradhas, do you?" remarked Legolas dryly as he recalled the vicious snowstorm and avalanche that had attacked the Fellowship during the Quest.

"Mmmmmmmmm," Aragorn hummed nonsensically while trying to pull the elf down onto his lap.

Legolas easily maintained his balance. "Aragorn, can you understand a word that I'm saying?" he asked worriedly. The Man's arms snaked around his body, latching together at the small of his back. Legolas tested the hold as delicately as he could and found that he couldn't free himself from his husband's grasp without using more force than he was comfortable with when Aragorn was obviously so ill. "My love, you're not feeling well. We must get you to a healer at once."

Why wasn't Legolas holding him? Aragorn could hear everything that he was saying but was having a lot of trouble focusing on it because not all of the words were making sense. Oh, why did he have to play word games when it was so cold! Maybe Legolas was mad at him for some reason…but why? The elf had said something about healers – something about Aragorn needing to go see one – but that couldn't be, since Legolas was the one who was pregnant.

That was it! Aragorn laughed ruefully. It was no wonder that Legolas wasn't in the mood to be affectionate! "I won't ask you to go to the Houses of Healing anymore," he promised with as much conviction as his oddly waning strength would allow him to muster. Perhaps he should try getting a little more sleep that night – it wouldn't do to be so exhausted that he wouldn't be able to support his husband when it came time to deliver. "I'm sure that the babies are just fine. They're probably close enough to being born that one missed check-up won't mean too much."

"The twins were born yesterday, my love," Legolas told him as he petted the back of Aragorn's head. His fever was boiling so much that it seemed to be making his sweat there scalding hot. "Don't you remember the all-day-long labor, or holding the girls afterward? You cannot have forgotten their first night: Meren and Gilraen made it so that neither of us got much rest!"

"My mother's name was Gilraen," noted Aragorn dreamily, all while trying to get closer still to Legolas. If he continued on like that, pretty soon the only way he'd be able to come nearer would be to actually crawl _under_ the prince's skin.

"I know," replied Legolas kindly, backing up as much as he could without breaking Aragorn's hold and hoping that the bit of distance would help keep his body heat away from his overheated husband. "And mine's was Meren; that's why we chose the names. Oh my love, I understand about not wanting to go to the Houses. At least let me bring a healer to you, or better yet your brothers. Yes, they will be discreet about your condition so that you won't have a bunch of advisors knocking at the door tomorrow to see how you are. Please let me do this for you; you must see, Aragorn, that you are quite ill."

Aragorn responded by pushing up the elf's sleeve and slowly planting soft, wet kisses up his arm. "You're so beautiful," he said reverently while deftly untying Legolas' green night robe.

"Aragorn…"

The king slipped his hands under the garment and moved the fabric aside while rubbing Legolas chest the whole time. When it was hanging enticingly from off of Legolas' arms, revealing that he was only clad in a simple pair of leggings, Aragorn brushed his lips against his belly before opening his mouth and dragging it up to the elf's chest. "Come to bed. We shall make a real fire, one that will rival even that of Mount Doom."

"We don't need anything that hot, not right now," Legolas tried to dissuade him.

Aragorn usually enjoyed it when Legolas made him play the part of the seducer while the prince was the hesitant prey, but not at that moment. While he couldn't deny that it was arousing, he hoped that his husband wouldn't make him wait for too long. Smiling slyly to himself, Aragorn decided that he was just going to have to provide a little more incentive. "I long to make love to you," he purred, taking one of Legolas' nipples into his mouth and sucking it and teasing it with the tip of his tongue. "You have but to give in and I will worship every part of your body with my mouth before taking you, touching you in places and ways that only I have or ever will touch you…"

Fantastic; his delirious husband was trying to seduce him. And doing an admirable job of it too – had the circumstances been different Legolas would have been shedding his leggings and bringing himself down onto Aragorn's lap by now. The knowledge of Aragorn's condition, however, kept the elf from even wanting to respond in any other way but concern, some vexation, and a little fear. Legolas might have even been able to see the humor in the situation had it not been so serious. "Aragorn, please," he said, attempting to keep his exasperation at bay. "This isn't only utterly ridiculous – it's also potentially dangerous. Your fever must be treated! Let me help you."

"Help me?" Aragorn gave the nipple one last lingering lick and stopped his ministrations. His face brightened – most of what Legolas had said hadn't made sense, but it sounded like he was surrendering! "You yield to me then, and seek permission to undress me? You don't have to ask, my love; especially not when I'm doing this," he added, ducking his head to attack the ties of the leggings with his teeth.

Trying to reason with him obviously wasn't going to work; it was time for a new strategy. "Ai, but I would never dream of doing anything so – _bold_ – to the virile Man who so ruthlessly conquered me without his permission," he purred. Gently easing Aragorn's head up before he could do much to the ties, he kissed the Man deeply while subtly easing away. "But before you so thoroughly take me, allow me to go out and impress upon the guards how important it is to not let anyone enter our chambers without our consent. You know how intimidating Ada and Gimli can be when I'm…pregnant."

"Good idea," agreed Aragorn, though he hated to see Legolas' beautiful body hidden again as the elf retied his robe. "I don't want to risk having anyone interrupt us. After all, we'll get precious little time alone after the twins are born; we should be free to savor moments like this now."

"You are quite right, my husband," said Legolas. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on Aragorn's mouth; Elbereth, even his lips felt feverish. "I'll be back as soon as possible. Will you do something for me in the meantime?"

"Name it."

"Don't go burying yourself in the covers again," requested Legolas. He wondered for a second if he should also ask him to get undressed but decided against it. He didn't want to think about how he'd get Aragorn back into his clothing if he needed to be moved. "I'll take care of whatever cold you feel soon enough. I promise, Aragorn: I will make you feel better soon."

One of the last things that Aragorn wanted was to give him his word that he wouldn't crawl back under the warm blankets when Legolas was gone and there was nothing else to hold back the frigid air. On the other hand, he knew the covers produced only a pale imitation of the heat created when he and Legolas made love. The prince seemed to be in a playful mood tonight and he didn't want to risk prolonging this agony just because he was too hesitant to give up a temporary fix by not complying. He could try playing along. "Why?" he asked in what was supposed to be an authoritative tone. "You are the one who yielded, thus putting you at the mercy of my commands; why is my fair conquered one requesting such a silly thing?"

'_Because being under them can't be good for your fever,'_ answered Legolas silently as he watched a drop of sweat slide down his cheek. He was tempted to just snatch the sheets away and take them with him but he didn't want to do anything that would alarm the Man in his delusional state. "I don't like the idea of there being so many layers of fabric between our bodies," he said aloud with an amorous grin.

Aragorn nodded slowly and looked forlornly at his husband's covered body. "I can understand that all too well."

Legolas watched with more than a little relief as Aragorn dutifully shoved all of the blankets off of the bed, leaving only the top sheet that covered the mattress. "You know how to please me in every way, my love," murmured the elf. "Now wait right here. I'll be back momentarily to…take care of your needs."

Turning as nonchalantly as he could, Legolas made his way out of the bedchamber and quietly closed the door behind him. After checking on Meren and Gilraen – and sending a silent thanks to Elbereth that the two infants were mercifully still asleep – he hurried out into the corridor. "Beren!" he called in a hissing whisper. "Mardil! Come at once, please!"

Two sets of footsteps sounded in the darkened hallway and the two guards appeared almost instantly at Legolas' side. "Good evening, my prince," said Mardil, glad that the dark was there to hide the fact that he was blushing. He'd seen the prince consort in his robe only once before, back when he was young and inexperienced; when a clash between Thranduil and Gloin, Gimli's father, made him burst into the royal bedchamber without knocking. Legolas had never seriously minded and Mardil had possessed the good grace to keep quiet about it, but he was still greatly embarrassed whenever he remembered how he saw the gorgeous Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Gondor and Mirkwood in the nude. "Do you require anything of us?"

"Yes," replied Legolas thoughtfully as he deliberated on how to word this. On the one hand, Aragorn was sick and needed immediate attention; on the other hand, he had never been very skilled at judging human illness and didn't want to alarm anyone needlessly, or make it appear like his husband didn't have the constitution to handle being sick at all. "I need your assistance. I'm afraid that the king is feeling a bit under the weather."

"Oh no!" exclaimed Beren. "Would you like us to send word to the Houses of Healing?"

"No," hesitated Legolas, weighing his options carefully. Even if he wasn't trying to be a little discreet, he still wouldn't have automatically chosen to do that. "No, I – I don't believe that we need to bother anyone there at this point in time. There's no reason for it when the lords Elladan and Elrohir are only a few corridors away and more than sufficiently rested from yesterday's labors." – _'As if they were doing all of the work!' _– Mardil, please rouse them for me."

"They might be very reluctant to do so," replied Mardil. "Do you wish me to go to the Houses if they don't wake up?"

"No, I wish you to use whatever means necessary," said Legolas wryly. "And when they've have enough wits about them to understand a word that you're saying, inform them that King Elessar is running a little fever and that I would like them to come to our bedchamber as soon as possible."

The guard bowed. "Yes, your majesty," he said promptly and rushed off to do his prince's bidding.

Beren waited until his colleague's footsteps had faded away before taking one step closer to Legolas. "What would you have me do, sire?" he asked in a low, urgent voice. "Please, I beg of you to give me an order that would help you! I intend no disrespect, but I know that there must be more to this than what you just told us. Why else would you not just take the king to the Houses or wake the elf lords yourself?"

"Good Beren," said Legolas, feeling somewhat comforted. The guard's familiarity with the royal family all but ensured that at least one of the people in charge of protecting them could tell when something was wrong without being told. Legolas was glad that he was learning when to break through the barriers of propriety and decorum to make this gift useful. "The king has been afflicted with some sort of sudden fever. He – he doesn't seem to remember what's happened in the last couple of days; he thinks I'm still pregnant! I must find a way to cool him down before he's hurt permanently, but I don't know how. Such a thing has never happened to him before!"

"But it has to other Men, including once to my second son when he was but a young Man," said Beren to reassure him. "Don't worry, my prince; this is not uncommon, nor is it likely to be too serious if we act quickly. May I suggest that the king is bathed in warm water as soon as can be?"

Legolas automatically shook his head when he heard the word _warm_. "I don't want him to get any hotter than he already is," he protested. "Bathing him sounds like a good idea, but shouldn't the water be cool?"

"No, your majesty," Beren told him solemnly. "Cool water would end up making him shiver and the movement from shivering would just make him all the more hot and feverish. Warm water would soothe him while cooling him off."

"Very good then," said Legolas, calmed by the fact that there was something he could do for Aragorn before the twins got there. "Go at once, Beren, and tell one of the servants to prepare a bath that is not too cold but also not too hot. Return here as quickly as you can too! I'll need someone to tell the twins where King Elessar and I are and, if they decide that both of them need to tend to the king, I'll need you to watch over the babies."

Beren looked as if he wanted to object. "But can we not both give this order to a servant and just take the king and the princesses with us?" he fretted. "I cannot in good conscience leave any of you unprotected during his time of illness. Who will make sure that nothing happens to you if I'm not there?"

"Believe me, Beren," said Legolas in an even, deadly tone, "if anyone tries to interfere with my husband's well being I will make them regret it. My heart tells me that it would be better to have you make sure that no harm befalls my daughters. Now go!"

The loyal guard bowed and sprinted off in the direction of the servants' quarters. With the orders given and the guards carrying them out, Legolas went back into the bedchamber. "My husband!" he cried in shock at the sight that awaited him.

Aragorn thankfully had kept his word not to wrap himself up in the blankets. Instead he was sprawled out on top of the bed, humming a made-up tune…utterly naked. Upon hearing Legolas' voice he grinned broadly and scrounged up enough strength to prop himself up on his elbows into what he believed would be a lust-inducing pose. "I've reduced the amount of fabric that stands between our bodies as much as I could," he answered in a husky tone. "Come to me, my love, and soon all that will be covering your skin will be me."

This was _not_ how Legolas needed the situation to go. Aragorn needed to go to the baths right away and it would be nice if he could maintain some dignity while he did so! It was time to think on his feet once again; Legolas played with the ties on his robe to stall for time until something came to him. "Ai, Aragorn," he blurted out excitedly as he figured out the perfect plan. "I just had a marvelously delicious idea. It's been too long since we made love in the bath. Let us correct that folly tonight – right now."

But that would mean venturing out even more into the frigid air while waiting even longer for the relief that Legolas could give him; Aragorn certainly didn't like the thought of that. "But I just went through all the trouble of taking off –"

His words died on his tongue when Legolas reached under his own robe and pulled off his leggings. "Shh," whispered the elf seductively, all while looking so coyly at him with those loving blue eyes. "We haven't gotten to the delicious part yet. I want us to do something a little naughty."

"I'm listening," said Aragorn eagerly.

"We have to act all proper and dignified all the time," Legolas purred. "Some of your best – _performances_ – have happened when we defied that somehow, like the time we made love on your throne or when you used your mouth so nicely that little closet before we went to court. We could do something like that now; we could go to the baths in naught but our robes. Please, my Aragorn – I get so incredibly aroused at the idea of knowing that only a little bit of fabric is all that's keeping up our royal image. If you do this for me, I'd be willing to do that thing with my tongue that you like in return."

Aragorn's face was so flush with fever and desire that it was beet red. Legolas mentally kicked himself for taking the feigned seduction so far that it teetered toward doing more harm than good. "I'll take you on your word," panted the king. "But not yet. Some things are worth waiting for until after the twins are born – when we'll have more freedom to maneuver."

"And I'll make it all the better because of it," vowed Legolas sincerely. When Aragorn was feeling better he was going to do all that he promised that night and more.

First things first, though; Legolas took Aragorn's red robe, slipped it onto the Man, and secured it shut before helping him rise to his feet. Stumbling along with him, the prince fretted about how he was going to explain the presence of two babies in their antechamber when Aragorn was under the impression that he was still pregnant. However, for good or ill it turned out to be a moot point: Aragorn only made it halfway across the bedchamber before his illness caused him to faint.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

While Legolas was frantically attending to his feverish husband, Eldarion – clueless about the turmoil in his parents' bedchamber – walked out along the streets of Gondor. Technically he wasn't supposed to be out that late. _'But technically,'_ he thought self-loathingly, _'I also wasn't supposed to almost kill Ada and I still managed to do that.'_ He'd been dealing with those kinds of thoughts ever since he spoke with his fathers that morning. They seemed to hang thick in the air of his bedchamber until it was so stifling in there that he had to talk his guard into letting him go for a walk.

This had put the guard in an awkward position. He knew that the king and prince consort normally wouldn't approve, but he also was aware that they were upset that Prince Eldarion had stayed in his bedchamber for so long. In the end he decided that they probably wouldn't mind a little walk too much – as long as he kept a close watch on the boy. However, he had been growing increasingly nervous as the crown prince walked further and further down the levels of Minas Tirith. Finally, as they approached the man gates out of the city he felt compelled to speak up. "My prince?" asked the guard. "Shouldn't we head back to the citadel now?"

Eldarion stopped and stared at the gates. "I shouldn't be allowed to go back there," he said sadly. "I don't deserve to be my parents' son."

"I don't know why you'd think such a thing but I'm sure that it's not true," replied the guard, more nervous than ever. It hadn't occurred to him before that the prince might actually try to run away and he didn't want to think about what would happen if the boy did just that on his watch. "Prince Eldarion –"

He stopped short at the sound of raised voices coming from the other side of the gate. "What do you mean coming here at this time of night?" demanded a voice that he was sure belonged to a fellow guard. "It is not our custom to open our gates to foreigners without the king's leave!"

"Prince Eldarion," whispered the boy's guard frantically. The situation was getting out of hand – now someone was trying to rush the gates! "_Please_ come with me now!"

Curiosity slowed Eldarion's movements and he was standing in the middle of the road, almost completely vulnerable, when the gates gave way. A whole party made up of four hooded horsemen, one walking while hidden by shadows, and many wagons burst through. Panicking now, the guard rushed forward and threw himself in front of the prince. "In the name of King Elessar of Gondor," he shouted, drawing his sword, "I command you to stop!"

It was then when the walking figure stepped forward. "Lower your weapon," he said. It was Bergil, who was acting as one of the gate guards that night. "I'm sorry if our joking caused any alarm, but it's just a returning messenger of the king." He paused and raised an eyebrow when he spotted the person behind his colleague. "Prince Eldarion? What are you doing here?"

"Never mind what he's doing here," said the guard fiercely, eying the host suspiciously. "You said that there was only one messenger; who are the rest?"

"Just a bunch of people who tagged along, as a few of us have been wont to do in the past," answered a tired but naturally breezy voice from atop of one of the horses. He rode forward until there was enough light on him to reveal his face. "I don't blame you for being wary, though; it's not often that you see our kind traveling at night, and our large number makes it even more unusual. But here we are and we have business with your king as well as Prince Legolas and the lad behind you. Ho there, Eldarion! Come say hello to your Uncle Pippin!"

To be continued…


	10. Under control?

"Hobbits!" exclaimed Eldarion's guard with unfettered surprise.

Eldarion raised his eyebrows, assessing Pippin with a long and questioning look before he cast his gaze on the rest of the party. There were two other horses with riders besides the jovial hobbit and the messenger who'd quietly excused himself after Pippin's greetings. The prince wasn't as curious about them, having a pretty good guess as to who they were, as he was about the numerous wagons that brought up the rear. "A lot of hobbits by the looks of things," he noted. He tried to look sternly at Pippin but couldn't suppress his grin. "What, it's not bad enough that you came uninvited? You also had to go and bring the whole Shire along with you?"

"What? No!" Pippin laughed good-naturedly as he carefully dismounted his steed and ran over to Eldarion, giving him an enthusiastic embrace. "It's so good to see you again, my lad!"

The boy was half-surprised, as he always was whenever he stood face-to-face with his fathers' Halfling companions, at how short Pippin actually was. The hobbit who had done such magnificent things such as save Findowyn's father's life and mundane tasks like changing his diapers as a baby was already a head smaller than him and Eldarion was still growing. Not that he noticed this too often; Merry, Sam, and Pippin all were the type of people who could feel a room with the sheer force of their personalities and just seemed bigger than him in so many ways. "I am glad that you're here," admitted Eldarion as he returned the hug. "I was just teasing."

"Oh, you don't need to explain that to me," Pippin assured him with a twinkle in his eyes. "And anyway, it does seem like I've got the population of two Farthings behind me at least. But fear not, young Eldarion; it's just me, your uncles Samwise and Meriadoc – you'll see them when they stop slow-poking about – and our families, of course."

Ah, that explained the presence of so many wagons. "We've gotten – _many_ – announcements out of the Shire over the years," said Eldarion, giving the train another appraising look and smirking a bit. "In fact, there's hardly been a year that's gone by without the happy news that the family on you hobbits' end has grown in one way or the other. Let me congratulate you on fitting everyone into so few wagons. It must be cramped in there."

"Oi, what are you doing, chattering away up there?" demanded Sam in a clear voice, only partially meaning it as a scold. The sound of horse footfalls filled the air until he and Merry were next to their fellow rider's horse. "Oh my goodness! Is that Eldarion?"

"Hi, Uncle Sam, Uncle Merry," called Eldarion, waving his hand a few times in greeting.

"It is," said Sam fondly. "If you didn't look so much like your papa I wouldn't have believed that you were my dear little nephew."

"No so little anymore," observed Merry with a warm smile. "Just take a look at this strapping young lad! Getting up there in years, too; you're going to be turning thirteen in, what, three months?"

Eldarion nodded resolutely. "Three months, two weeks, and four days – no, three days now," he said. He'd been automatically replying to that type of question with the exact count for almost five months.

"Doesn't seem possible," clucked Merry with wistful nostalgia. "It seems like it was yesterday that we were all taking turns running you around the citadel at night because that was the only way to keep you from screaming until your tiny face was purple. By the Shire, if you're this old then how old does that make me?"

"Well, he might not be gettin' any older," said Sam, shaking his head and tsking. "Not if your parents catch you sneaking about this late. I don't suppose you have their permission to be out here now?"

So shocked and joyful was he to see his hobbit uncles again Eldarion had managed to temporarily forget the miserable revelations and dark thoughts that had driven him out into the streets of the city in the first place. A bleak expression must have crossed his face because suddenly Pippin frowned. "Are you feeling all right, my lad?" the concerned hobbit asked.

Seeing the kindly look in his face, Eldarion suddenly wanted more than anything to empty the contents of his mind and heart to them. He held back, though; not wanting to depress them or put them in an awkward position. Sam, Merry, and Pippin had come a long way and were most likely very tired; the last thing that they needed at the moment was to hear him whine. Besides, they probably knew the whole awful tale anyway. "I was just taking a little stroll to clear my head," he said in a consciously light tone.

"Plainly his ada's son," Merry nodded knowingly. "Always choosing to wander about outside even when staying inside was the more prudent course of action."

"Hey," protested Eldarion, playfully defensive. "May I remind you that _you_ are the ones who sauntered through the gates of _my_ home without so much of a note of warning? Don't go questioning my comings and goings without first coming up with a good explanation for why you're here."

"We were invited, of course," answered Pippin grandly. He pulled a piece of parchment that had obviously been folded with great care out of his jacket's inner pocket and waved it about. "It says right here that my family and I are cordially invited to attend the birthday celebration of one Prince Eldarion Telcontar in the chief city of Gondor."

Eldarion skillfully snatched it away, unfolding it to read the rest of the note. "Be careful with that!" cried Pippin. "As soon as I get back to the Shire it's going in the scrapbook along with all the rest so I'd appreciate it if you didn't mess it all up."

"I was just wondering if Ada and Papa asked you to come early," Eldarion excused himself. "But this is just inviting you to the party and that's still a few months away."

"Since when do we need a formal invitation to come out here?" piped up Merry with a twinkle in his eyes. "We're _family_, and that means we get to impose on your hospitality whenever we have a mind to! Besides, it's been so long since we've been in the presence of this all-important crown prince and birthday boy, and we decided that it would be in our best interests to get reacquainted with the young Man in order to know what to get him on his birthday."

At this Pippin snorted. "Getting presents on your birthday instead of giving them," he commented, obviously still trying to wrap his mind around this bizarre concept. "You Big Folk have the oddest traditions."

Sam, who'd never been completely comfortable on the back of a horse no matter how many years of practice he got at it, slid off of his steed very slowly and went up to Eldarion. The boy knelt down this time so that he could rest his head on the hobbit's shoulder as Sam gave him a warm hug. "It's wonderful to see you again, my dear nephew," said Sam. "And I didn't just come because I didn't know what to get you neither; your present from me is already tucked away in one of the wagons."

Eldarion pulled back a little to beam at him. "Ah, that smile alone would have made the trip worthwhile," commented Sam as he grasped the boy's chin and gave it a good-humored shake. "However, I must confess that we had other reasons for arriving so early. We got word that Mr. Legolas is expecting a few months back and having that messenger come with the invitation to your party felt like a sign that we needed to get ourselves here. After all, we were in Minas Tirith for your birth and Laurelin's too; it's only right that we're here for this one."

"Well, I'm afraid that you're a little too late," Eldarion informed them in an exaggeratedly grave tone. "Ada gave birth – what was it, yesterday afternoon? Yes, that's right, if today is still today. If it's so late that it's now a new morning then he gave birth two days ago."

"Just missed it," groused Merry, sending his cousin a reproachful look. "I told you that we didn't need to stop to eat a full meal at every single mealtime."

"You did not! I bet it was painful for you to even get those words out now," retorted Pippin before turning back to the young prince. "Such a shame, though I suppose that everything went well without us. Now out with it, my lad: is the baby a boy or a girl?"

"Girl," answered Eldarion in a long-suffering tone that was contradicted by the mischievous smile that spread across his face. "Then Ada had to go and give birth to _another_ girl right after that one!

He was gratified when all three of their jaws dropped – it wasn't often that someone actually stunned a hobbit speechless. "Their names are Gilraen and Meren," he continued, "and if you can tell how healthy a baby is by how loud it cries, they are both _extremely _healthy."

A blonde girl rushed up to join them then, staggering a bit as if pulled out of a deep sleep. Her eyes shined with eagerness, though, and she smiled excitedly at the prince. "Did you just say that there are _two_ new babies here?" she asked, her arms already curling as if she was imagining holding one of them.

And so Eldarion laid eyes on Sam Gamgee's eldest daughter for the first time in five years. In that time she'd truly grown into her unofficial title as Elanor the Fair, for now that she was beyond her awkward phase her face was as fair as the sun-colored hair that was covering her head and she seemed to him to be lovely all over. The boy had been too young to care much about girls during her last visit but now he could appreciate that she was, in his mind, almost as pretty as Findowyn, though in a different way. "Yeah," he told her with a blush, feeling shy all of the sudden. "You, uh, you like holding babies, right?"

'Yes she does, and she's got no cause to be so forward about it," Sam answered for his daughter. "It's not as if your life has been lacking in that department. There are plenty of babies in your life without marching up to poor Mr. Legolas and Strider and demanding to hold theirs. You're a young lady now, Elanor, and you'd best mind your manners."

"I will, Dad," she promised. Then she sneakily winked at Eldarion, who dug his toes into the ground and looked down in response.

"Doesn't sleep, this one; not when there might be babies about," noted Merry jovially. He dismounted his horse and called back to the wagons: "Is there anyone else back there besides Elanor who's awake?"

Various drowsy and irate grumbles answered his question but they didn't bother him; he only smiled broadly and beckoned them with a sweeping gesture of his hand. "Well, come on then, you sluggards!" he ordered cheerfully. "If you're not asleep get out here and be introduced – or reintroduced, as is the case for most of you – to Gondor's fine crown prince here. He's a very important person, after all."

Several hobbits rolled off of the wagons and stumbled forward to form a hasty line in front of the prince. Taking in all of their faces and ages, Eldarion knew that he'd previously met all of them but two (and one was because she hadn't been born at the time of their last visit), but he was going to need a lot of reminders when it came to the names of the younger ones. "You remember my wife Rose, of course," Sam started them out. "And Elanor, and you should know Frodo after all the trouble the two of you caused the last time we were here."

Eldarion nodded politely at the hobbit woman, flushed when Elanor gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, and engaged Frodo, who wasn't even a year older than him, in their secret handshake. "And little Rose, little Merry, little Pippin, Goldilocks, little Hamfast, and Daisy," continued Sam, tapping each one on the head as he said their names. "And I'm proud to introduce you to my Primrose here," he added, kissing the youngest one there on the top of the head. "I'm afraid that you'll have to wait to meet little Bilbo and baby Ruby until they wake up."

"As you can plainly see, Diamond here and I haven't been nearly as productive as the Gamgees," spoke up Pippin, putting one arm around his wife and resting his other hand on his young son's shoulder. "We only have our Faramir, though I reckon he's enough of a handful for us." Faramir Took smiled sweetly up at Eldarion and then turned his head to cross his eyes at his age-mate Goldilocks, who responded by sticking her tongue out at him.

"It's nice to see you both again," Eldarion said to Pippin's family, smiling inside at the memory of when they'd gotten the message that Pippin was going to be a father. Aragorn had been so surprised that he'd choked on the water he'd been drinking, spitting it across the lunch table. Legolas, who'd been pregnant with Laurelin at the time, hadn't been amused when his bread had gotten soaked.

Merry cleared his throat to get the prince's undivided attention. "And this," he announced with surprising earnestness, tenderly holding the hand of the hobbit lass who was standing next to him, "is my wife, Estella. My dear, this is my – _our_ – nephew, Eldarion."

Estella smiled faintly but otherwise did nothing. Seeing her hesitation Eldarion smiled at her kindly and bowed a little. "Welcome to Minas Tirith, Mrs. Estella Brandybuck," he greeted with a tad more formality than he did with the others. "I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you. Is this your first visit to a Mannish city?"

"Yes," she responded, wringing her hands, "except for that one night in Bree."

"I hope that you enjoy your stay here," Eldarion told her, taking her hand and kissing it politely.

Sam shook his head. "A charmer, just like his ada," he noted with a mixture of affection and resignation. "Speaking of which, we'd love to see him and your papa too as soon as possible. Do you think it's too late to call on them? What do you suppose they're doing now?"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"Oh," gasped Aragorn, shuddering under his husband's caress. "That feels so good, Legolas; please don't stop now."

"I don't intend to," Legolas assured him, dunking the sponge that was in his hand under the water once more. With a protective smile he wrung it out over Aragorn's head, watching his husband's innocently blissful reaction for a second before stroking it over the Man's brow.

This was quite possibly the first time that the two of them had been in one of the citadel's great baths alone together _without_ becoming intimate, something oddly ironic considering the way in which Legolas had tried to coax the Man down there in the first place. In fact, the elf hadn't planned on ending up in the water at all when the whole misadventure had begun; when Aragorn had regained consciousness after being carried almost the whole way he seemed to forget his amorous overtures and was content to sink down into the soothing water. Legolas hadn't been especially eager to remind him of them and thought to just bathe him while sitting at the edge of the bath.

The task, however, had turned out to be more sloppy than he'd originally anticipated and soon enough his soaked sleeping robe was clinging uncomfortably to his skin. Figuring that it would be best if it was as dry as possible when he and Aragorn made their way back to their bedchamber, Legolas had opted to forgo the robe and join him in the water. Any romantic advances, the elf had decided, were easy enough to rebuff; and Aragorn wouldn't feel bad about the rejection because he probably wasn't going to remember it once he was well again.

"The water's so nice," sighed Aragorn, resting his head on the elf's shoulder and burying his face in the crook of Legolas' neck.

Legolas silently noted with some dismay that the Man's skin still felt a bit too warm for his liking, though he was comforted by the fact that he'd stopped shivering and complaining about the chill. _'He seems less out-of-it too,' _thought Legolas, drawing the damp sponge up and down Aragorn's exposed neck in a soothing, loving manner. _'The water appears to be doing him a world of good.'_

A knock sounded at the door and echoed through the large chamber. Before Legolas could ask who was there it opened and two identical heads poked in. "Mae govannen, Legolas," greeted Elrohir, looking less bleary-eyed than his twin as he inched his way into the room. "We were awakened in a rather uncouth manner by a guard who told us that Estel was feeling a little under the weather and that our assistance would be appreciated. Another such guard directed us here in between singing war tunes to our baby nieces, stressing that the matter was most urgent."

"I don't know, brother; it looks as if we may be interrupting something here," chimed in Elladan, smirking suggestively as he took in the couple's proximity to each other in the bath and their state of undress. "We could always come back later when you two aren't so…indisposed."

Legolas rolled his eyes and glowered at them. "Get over here and be quick about it!" he hissed urgently. The angry tone of his voice made Aragorn moan quietly against his skin and the prince cuddled him a little closer. "Ai Elbereth, what is wrong with you, Elladan? My husband – your little brother – is ill and you're standing there making dirty jokes! Maybe if you started courting someone yourself you wouldn't have to live vicariously through me and Aragorn and you'd actually be of some use."

"Pay him no mind," Elrohir told Legolas, casting a disapproving look at his properly chastised twin before shutting the door and crossing the room briskly. "He was never one for serious conversation and always babbles incoherently when he can't handle a situation."

Kneeling down beside the bath, he gently urged Aragorn's head up so that they could look at each other. "How now, Estel?" asked Elrohir. "What's all this fuss about?"

"I was cold," replied Aragorn drowsily. He yawned and put his head back down on Legolas' shoulder. "Now I'm just more tired than anything else."

"He was burning up," Legolas informed the other elf. "It was so – horrifying; I'd never seen him like that before. He didn't understand what was going on around him and his memory of the last couple of days was gone. He thought that I was still pregnant, despite what I told him and the evidence otherwise."

Elladan squatted down next to his twin. "Well, you did the right thing for him," he observed with a hint of relief in his voice.

"Yes," agreed the prince, "thanks to the war-tune-crooning guard who directed you here."

The corners of Elrohir's mouth curled up until he was almost smiling, albeit grimly. "Has his fever gone down at all?"

"A little bit," replied Legolas. "And he seems to be doing better."

Elrohir stroked Aragorn's hair and tucked it behind his ear. "Judging from what you've told us and by what I'm seeing now he doesn't appear to be in any immediate danger," he assessed thoughtfully. "The worst just may be over."

"But why did this illness come on at all?" demanded Legolas. "It was so sudden; he was just fine this morning…"

"I can't say for certain at the moment," answered Elrohir honestly. "Mortal illness is a strange thing; sometimes it comes on with no warning and leaves in much the same manner and other times it takes its time with coming and going. However, given that Estel has a penchant for drawing trouble to him – present company included – I'm not comfortable yet with calling this a simple illness. He's drifting off anyway, so let's get him back to bed. Elladan and I can examine him with greater ease there."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Never before had a stranger parade halted in front of the royal bedchamber in the citadel. All of the night guards who had seen them come in stared with amazement. Faramir Took found this quite funny and enjoyed the attention. He was certain that everyone was marveling about the wonderful hobbits; even the person that he sleepily observed standing in the shadows outside of the royal bedchamber, wearing an odd cloak and not saying anything, must have been most impressed by them.

At the head of the group, Eldarion look behind at his hovering guard and vast assortment of hobbits and felt his chest tighten. "They're probably asleep," he told them all, half hoping that it was true. He wasn't sure if he was ready to see them again. "But I'm sure that they won't mind if you wake them up."

He tentatively knocked on the door. Two shrill cries and a frustrated groan answered him. "Yes, what is it?" asked the voice that had groaned.

That wasn't either of his parents! "I should be asking the same question," countered Eldarion in a hard, stern tone that threatened anyone who might have done his fathers and sisters harm. He wrenched the door open and stormed inside, ignoring the wordless cry of alarm from his guard as the Man lunged forward too late to stop him. "I am Prince Eldarion Telcontar and this is my fathers' – Beren?"

The older guard was standing in the antechamber next to Meren's cradle, awkwardly holding the infant girl in his arms while Gilraen lay crying in the other crib. "My prince!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing out of bed at this hour?"

"Never mind that," returned Eldarion, still a little upset at Beren's unexplained presence. "What are _you_ doing in here?"

"Trying to get the princesses to go back to sleep," sighed the guard wearily. He smiled down at Meren and then made the most ridiculous face. The baby girl was apparently unimpressed, letting out an ear-piercing shriek and continued crying. "Oh, drat! That used to work so well on you, Prince Eldarion. Prince Legolas carried you practically everywhere with him after you were born; every time I saw you I'd make that face and you'd laugh no matter if you were crying only a second earlier. Perhaps it's a male thing."

"And perhaps those girls need the comforting presence of their uncles," spoke up Sam, striding forward with an eager Merry and Pippin at his heels. "Funny faces are good and all, but right now they simply won't do."

While their husbands stepped forward the hobbit women hung back. Eldarion observed them, careful not to let them see him watching. Rose was looking down adoringly at baby Ruby, asleep in her basket. Diamond Took patted Faramir on the head while obviously recalling the sleepless nights after he was born. Estella bit her lip and looked…odd. Eldarion supposed that she was feeling a little out-of-place in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar city as well as being the only one of her friends who wasn't a mother, but he couldn't help thinking that she looked like someone who had a guilty conscience. It was not his place to judge, though, and he turned his focus back to the conversation between his uncles and Beren.

"Bless me," marveled the guard in subdued delight. "When did you all get in?"

"Just now," piped up Eldarion, still a little put-off with the guard being in his parents' private chambers. He glanced meaningfully at the bedchamber door as Beren passed Meren to Sam and Pippin scooped up Gilraen. "I brought them here to see my _fathers_. Where are they?"

A worried expression came to Beren's face. "Oh dear," he said. "My prince, I'm not sure if it is appropriate for me to be the one to inform you of this, but – but King Elessar and Prince Legolas went to the baths a short while ago. A sudden fever came upon the king and the prince wanted to take care of it before it got too serious."

"That doesn't sound right," said Eldarion. "I was talking to both of them this morning and he was fine then."

"All I know is what Prince Legolas told me; perhaps something happened between then and now," replied Beren. He looked longingly at the door, desperate to escape the room with the screaming babies and prince with uncomfortable questions. "Is everything under control here? I feel that I would be much more useful if I returned to my assigned post."

"Yes, yes, go." Sam looked concerned as the guard made a polite but hasty exit. "Oh my; it sounds like we picked a bad time to surprise Strider and Mr. Legolas. Maybe we should wait until morning, don't you agree, Eldarion? Eldarion?"

The boy didn't answer; he just stared numbly at the entrance to the bedchamber as he recalled his conversation with his parents earlier. "I'm a jinx," he lamented softly.

"Come again?" asked Merry, his brow creased.

"I'm a jinx," Eldarion repeated, louder and more miserable. "A curse. A blight on my family. First I almost kill Ada by being born; now Papa gets sick after I _make_ them tell me all about it. Elbereth, why am I always making my fathers suffer?"

To be continued…


	11. Good hobbit sense

Eldarion was so lost in his guilt about inflicting yet more pain on his poor fathers that he barely felt the eyes of his three hobbit uncles boring into him. "It would have been better if I'd never existed at all," the young prince continued to lament.

"Now you just wait one minute there, young mister," said Sam, half scolding and half incredulous. "Let me see if I'm hearing you right: you're making your fathers suffer? You almost killed Mr. Legolas? You're a jinx and a _curse_?"

The boy gave no verbal response but he did drop his gaze to the floor. Sam shook his head, almost in shock. "Why would you say that?" the hobbit demanded. "Wherever did you get that load of nonsense?"

"You don't have to pretend that you don't know," mumbled Eldarion, staring so intently at the floor of the antechamber that one would think that it had a secret map to a treasure hoard drawn on it. "There's no way that the three of you _couldn't_ know. You said it yourselves – you were here when I was born."

Merry stopped stroking the tuft of dark hair on the top of Gilraen's head to place his hands on his hips. "Yes, that's right," he said, walking slowly toward the boy. "But why would that mean that we would know anything about the rubbish that you were just spouting?"

"Stop it! I know you're just trying to be kind but I can't take it anymore," cried Eldarion. Tears stung his bright blue eyes but he blinked them away; after all, what right did he have to cry? "You know all about my birth and now so do I – Ada and Papa told me the whole story this morning, about how I almost killed Ada when he brought me into the world. Now I've gone and practically forced them to tell me and almost immediately afterwards Papa becomes 'mysteriously' sick. You can't tell me that's just a coincidence!"

"What else would it be, Eldarion?" Sam tried to reason with him.

"I told you: it's _me_!" stressed the boy in anguish. "I'm a terrible, awful son! I should be sent away somewhere where I can't hurt this family anymore."

Throughout all of this Pippin had stood deathly still, which was almost an unnatural occurrence for the lively hobbit, with his fists clenched tightly at his sides. It seemed as if he'd been struck by a strange fit that had robbed him of his speech; but at last he managed to find his voice. "Who's been filling your head with these ridiculous, twisted, untruthful notions?" he demanded in an odd tone.

Eldarion shook his head. "That doesn't matter right now –"

"I asked you to tell me who it was that planted those horrible, vicious lies in your head!" Pippin interrupted him furiously. The crown prince had never seen his jovial uncle so angry before; he'd never seen him angry at all, now that he thought about it. He suddenly remembered the stories that Pippin had killed a great troll during the battle at the Black Gates and for the first time Eldarion could see it happening. He definitely didn't like seeing Pippin that way.

Gilraen apparently didn't like the hobbit's mood swing either. The infant girl started to fuss and whimper in his arms, and was not comforted when Pippin started whispering soft, soothing words. Finally Merry was compelled to hurry back to his side and scoop her away. "It's all right, sweet girl; your Uncle Pippin's not mad at you," cooed Merry before he looked up at his cousin firmly. "You calm down, Pip. You're not accomplishing anything by getting angry, unless you count scaring a baby and making our poor nephew feel even worse."

"But he –"

"I know," Merry cut him off. "And we'll set that straight right quick. Now take a deep breath and ask him who's been going around spreading those lies – and not in that crazy tone."

Pippin obliged, closing his eyes and indulging in several cleansing breaths before opening them again to meet Eldarion's apprehensive stare. "I'm sorry that I snapped at you just now," he apologized, perhaps to get the boy to relax. His efforts failed, though, as there was absolutely nothing comforting about the tone of his voice. "It's not you that I'm mad at. Now tell me who this hateful, dishonorable liar is so that I can have a few words with him about talking about things that he doesn't know anything about."

"I –" Eldarion stopped and coughed several times to both clear his throat and stall for time. "Well, no one had to _tell_ me. I just, well, I just had some questions for Ada and Papa; they answered them and I – and I sort of figured the rest of it out on my own."

"What!" Pippin almost shouted, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be calm and relaxed. "Of all the ridiculous – what is wrong with you? How could you possibly get that you're somehow responsible for what happened to Legolas out of that story? You were only a baby – a newborn baby, for pity's sake! Fool of a Telcontar!"

"That's not nearly as catchy as 'Fool of a Took'," remarked Merry dryly.

"If ever there wasn't a time for making a joke, this is it," said Pippin warningly, sending the other hobbit a murderous glare.

"And you know that's a fact if it's _Mr. Pippin_ who's saying it," added Sam, giving Merry an ironic look.

Pippin was definitely less than amused. "Not you too," he snapped at Sam harshly. "There's nothing funny about this at all; the boy's clearly delusional!"

"I am not!" protested Eldarion, obviously insulted. "Maybe I'm just the first person's who's said the truth out loud, that's all."

Sam covered his mouth and shook his head, looking at the boy with a surprising amount of earnest solemnity. "Oh honey, I just don't know where to begin," he said.

"Nowhere," replied Eldarion sullenly. "There's nothing left to say."

"Obviously that isn't true," countered Sam. He thought long and hard for a moment. "I don't suppose you gave Strider and Mr. Legolas a chance to talk to you about this realization?" he asked, though it was more of a statement since he could already guess the answer.

"Well, no," hedged Eldarion, his cheeks suddenly getting hot for reasons that he couldn't quite put into words. "I was…a bit – more than a bit, really – upset and I just ran out of there. Ada was calling after me, but I…"

Merry sighed and turned his face upwards toward the ceiling while Pippin let out an outraged, wordless grunt. Sam, however, tutted his tongue and gave no other reaction. "It's always best to know the whole story before you start making such grand and ludicrous assumptions," advised the hobbit Gamgee sagely. "Now you better open your ears, Eldarion; because you need to be told the rest of the truth and your uncles here are going to be doing the telling."

Biting his lip, Eldarion looked into each one of their faces with a new sense of wariness. He wouldn't put it past any of them to come up with a nice lie if they thought that it would make him feel better, and there was a part of him that told him not to trust a word that they were about to say. That part, however, was usually the part that he listened to prior to doing something that got him punished when his fathers found out about it; the sensible part of him said that there was something so genuine about their shock and indignation that he had no reason to doubt their sincerity. The two sides warred inside him as he deliberated about what he could believe.

"All right," he finally conceded, deciding for now to take them at their word. After all, they'd never been deceitful with him before; he would just have to be extra attentive in his listening now. "Ada and Papa told me about the poisoning and the lady who attacked Ada in the garden, but we didn't get into the details about the night that I was born so much. I guess we could start there."

"What a scary night that was, too," said Pippin with a shudder. His brilliant eyes clouded over as the painful memories took hold. "We were – taking a self-guided tour of the city when we got the news that Legolas was bleeding. That's how the guard said it, too – that he was bleeding. No one knew yet that he was in labor; and we all thought…well, you can imagine what we all thought."

Merry stiffened and put a hand on Pippin's shoulder. "Anyway," Pippin continued, "after that everyone rushed off to the Houses of Healing – except me. First I had to track down King Thranduil and Gimli outside the city gates and then I had to wait there after those two went off because Elladan and Elrohir were coming and _they_ needed to be told what was going on. Me! I was the one who found Legolas vomiting in his horse's stall; I was the one who knew that he thought that he was dying. It was me who described his symptoms to Elladan and Elrohir after Legolas fainted, allowing them to figure out that he was pregnant and not dying at all. Then when the situation got bad again and your ada needed all the support that he could get, I wasn't there! Is that fair, I ask you?"

"He's been carrying on about this for _years_," Merry fake-whispered to Eldarion. He groaned and gave Pippin's ankle a little kick. "Hey, Pip! I don't think that our lad here cares too much about whatever issues you had – and continue to have – on that night."

"I'm just setting the stage," groused Pippin.

"Consider it set," returned Merry smartly. "Forgive us, Eldarion; but I think we can skip ahead here without too many details. Let's just say that Elladan and Elrohir made it to the healing chamber in time and kicked everyone, including Aragorn, out for the rest of the birth. Your papa was not happy that he had to wait outside with the rest of us for so long."

"For what turned out to be one of the longest nights of all of our lives," piped up Sam, "and considering what we've been through during our lives, that's saying something. Of course, what the three of us were going through, or Faramir and Eowyn, or Gimli or even King Thranduil, was _nothing_ compared to what Strider suffered through during the wait. The poor Man was nearly out of his mind with worrying about you and Mr. Legolas, torturing himself about whether or not he'd made the right choices in terms of your care."

"No one was telling us anything about what was going on either," Merry spoke up darkly. "All Aragorn could do was imagine what was happening."

This was probably the source of his papa's insistence (a rather strange one, according to the people of Gondor's court) that he always accompany Legolas to the birthing chamber and stay put until the baby was born. "How long did that go on?" wondered Eldarion in a small voice.

"Oh, we couldn't tell you the number of hours," said Marry with a great deal of sadness in his voice. "All we knew was that one second of not knowing if you and he were safe was one second too long; and that night was _excruciatingly_ long."

"But I was born eventually," said Eldarion.

"Of course you were; you're standing here talking to us, aren't you?" Sam smiled a little, both at the boy's silliness and at the memory of the first time that Eldarion was introduced to them. "They cleaned you up all nice and god before bringing you out. You should have seen the look on Strider's face when that healing woman gave you to him! He looked – well, I don't have the words to describe it but it was something to behold, all right."

Despite himself, Eldarion let out a little chuckle. "I suppose I could imagine it," he said, recalling the time that he visited his ada's birthing chamber after Laurelin was born. Aragorn had looked at her like she was the most amazing thing in the world that day. Eldarion remembered with a bit of embarrassment how very jealous he'd been of all the attention she'd gotten. "I've seen Papa around three new babies, after all. Did all of you pass me around for everyone to hold like you did to Laurelin after she was born?"

"No," answered Sam softly. The joy he'd felt at remembering those few happy seconds on that stressful day faded and he grew pensive once again. "No, not at all. Your papa wouldn't let anyone else hold you or even come too close. He just sort of curled himself around you like he thought that one of us had a mind to snatch you away and run."

"That Man clung to you like you were his only lifeline," added Merry grimly. "And for a while there it looked like you were going to be the last living bit of Legolas that he had."

Eldarion blinked rapidly to keep his tears from escaping. "Because of –"

"Don't start that up again," ordered Merry. "It would be nice if you let us tell you the truth without assuming that you've already figured it out. We have no intention of lying to you, Eldarion – Legolas was pretty bad off right after you were born and no one knew how he was going to turn out. Aragorn" – his voice caught – "Aragorn was so upset that he couldn't stand the thought of sharing you – as you were the one thing that the two of them wanted more than anything and waited so long to have – with anyone else. We didn't even get a good look at you until after your ada was out of the woods."

"Your grandfather did, though," recalled Pippin. "He stayed with Aragorn when your papa took you to sit by Legolas. You know how intimidating King Thranduil is? Even _he_ didn't get Aragorn to let go of you."

"Aragorn fussed over you the whole time that he was waiting for Legolas to wake up," Merry said. "Calling for bottles, diapers, baby toys, everything. Does that sound like the way that your papa would act toward anyone that he blamed for hurting Legolas?"

Eldarion let out a shuddering breath. "No," he admitted in a wavering voice. Hope kindled within him but he wasn't entirely convinced yet. "What – what about Ada? How did he act toward me after almost dying and everything?"

"No one could ever really describe it," spoke up Pippin. He frowned when Eldarion started to nod knowingly. "And don't go thinking that you can figure it out by remembering the way that he acted around your sisters after they were born. Now he loved Laurelin with all his heart, and I'm sure that he felt the same about these precious bundles that we have here, but with you it was – _deeper_, if you follow me. He loved you so much, but it was also like he _knew_ you as a person; that you weren't his new child but someone he'd known for years. All I can think of is that you two went through a lot together and both of you proved tougher than a lot of people imagined."

"Legolas had a dream about you when he was out of it," added Sam thoughtfully. "It made him think – I don't know – that you were looking out for him just as much as he was looking out for you."

Before Eldarion could respond – that is, if he had an adequate response that could possibly convey how he was feeling – the door suddenly creaked open. All heads turned, expecting to see Aragorn and Legolas, and they instead found themselves looking at two identical elf lords. Elladan and Elrohir were even more surprised to see the guests as the guests were to see them and for a moment the room was completely silent as the two groups stared at each other as if they'd never seen anything like it before.

It was Elrohir who recovered his voice first. "Legolas," he called back to his friend, "you never told us that your chambers were infested with hobbits."

"Don't be funny now, if that's what you call what you're doing," replied Legolas, still out in the corridor. The twins moved inside and held the door open as wide as it would go. "Not that it isn't always, um, interesting, when you take the time to loosen up, mellon nin; but I'm not in the mood right –"

All speech left the elf prince when he entered the room and took in the sight of the many hobbits. "Ai, good Elbereth," he commented at last. "Welcome, everyone! This is - _unexpected_, but it's wonderful to have you all here." He smiled as he surveyed his guests and the smile warmed even more when his eyes fell on Eldarion. "Ion nin! You came out of your bedchamber. I'm so happy to see you…"

"Ah, Legolas?" spoke up Pippin in an uncertain tone, awkwardly raising his hand and feeling like that inexperienced hobbit who set out from Rivendell all those years ago. "Do you need any help with, well, with _him_?"

Legolas glanced down at the person that the hobbit was gesturing at: Aragorn, who was unconscious in his husband's arms. "No," he replied as if that should have been obvious all along. "I've carried him for quite awhile and I'm still doing fine. I doubt that you could say the same if you were in my place, Master Took."

"Is Papa all right, Ada?" asked Eldarion timidly.

"He's just fine," Legolas assured him as his eyes shone. Thank Elbereth his boy was speaking to him again! After the way they'd left things that afternoon he hadn't been sure when that was going to happen. "I think we got his fever under control."

"Then why is he so out of it?" pressed Eldarion.

Legolas rolled his eyes, though his expression remained loving. "He fell asleep in the bath," he explained with a little laugh. "I suppose that it's exhausting to be sick."

"Don't make excuses for him, Legolas," Elladan told him, certain that it was all right to play the teasing older brother role again now that Aragorn seemed to be on the road to recovery. "Estel has always been lazy like this whenever he comes down with even the slightest case of the sniffles."

"As opposed to you, who doesn't need illness as an excuse to make yourself worthless?" retorted Legolas only half-jokingly. He shook his head in exasperation and smiled once more at his son. "Your papa just nodded off while your uncles and I were tending to him. I didn't have the heart to wake him, especially when it was only slightly harder for me to carry him."

Rose Gamgee blinked in wonder, remembering how she'd felt after each time she'd given birth. While she'd always gotten back on her feet fairly quickly – she was a mother, after all, and that was just something that mothers had to do – she couldn't imagine having to lug around something so heavy so soon after delivering. "You poor dear," she said. "Everyone, give him some room and stop pestering him! Let him put down the king as soon as may be."

"I thank you for your concern," said Legolas cordially (though in truth he was getting a little annoyed), making his way across the room, "but I'm really all right. We elves – could someone get the door? – can carry heavier things than Aragorn here without straining a lot of muscles. Thank you, Sam."

He made his way into the bedchamber with Elladan and Elrohir at his heels and carefully placed Aragorn on the bed. The Man mumbled something incoherent – something about "not tonight" that made Legolas grimace a little – and then slipped into a deeper slumber. "We can handle the situation from here, Legolas," said Elrohir, gently pulling the elf away. "Why don't you step outside for a little while?"

"Excuse me?" demanded Legolas sharply, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Are you actually telling me to leave my own bedchamber while my husband is so sick?"

"There's really nothing more that you can do here," Elladan told him. "Estel doesn't appear to be worsening, so you don't have to worry about that either. I'd say that the hobbits need your attention more than he does right now. They look tired, and the young ones especially might like something to eat and drink before they go to bed. Find them some bedchambers, see that they get whatever they need, bid your son goodnight, and then come back here. We'll examine Estel and hopefully have something to tell you upon your return."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"…And there you have it," concluded Elrohir a little while later, after Legolas came back. All of the hobbits were settled in a drifting off to sleep if they weren't asleep already but Eldarion was still awake. The young prince was with the three elves in the royal antechamber, holding his father's hand while his uncles reported their diagnosis. "He's probably been feeling a little under the weather for some time but his stress over the birth and all of that business with Lady Nienor held it at bay. Now that all of that's over with it attacked him full-force."

"You married an idiot," added Elladan tiredly, exasperated at his little brother for putting them through all of that when he could have saved them a lot of grief by mentioning that he wasn't feeling well. "But I'm sure you already knew that."

Clearly Legolas wasn't in the mood to hear his husband being insulted. His grip on the rocking chair's armrest tightened and he glared at Elladan. "He should be fine in a few days," Elrohir broke in before the two could get into a full-scale argument. "Just make sure that he gets plenty of rest, fluids, and all that good stuff. Now if you don't need anything else, my foolish twin and I will bid you a very fond good night."

Legolas let his head fall against the back of the chair after the twins departed. Eldarion, not letting go of his hand, walked around a little in order to face him better. "Can I get you some water or something?" the boy asked anxiously.

"No, thank you," sighed Legolas, giving him a small but content smile. "You've been so helpful tonight already with getting our guests situated. I'm so glad that you're feeling better about what your papa and I told you this afternoon."

"Well, I had a talk with Uncle Pippin, Uncle Merry, and Uncle Sam," replied Eldarion a bit ruefully. "They made me realize that I didn't give you a chance to finish the tale."

"You did leave before the most important part," agreed Legolas. "You see, ion nin, after you were born I went…somewhere else."

"They told me that you had a dream," said Eldarion, confused.

"It wasn't a dream," said Legolas resolutely as if he'd had this debate countless times before. "I'm certain that I was in a waiting place between life and death. I had no idea what had happened to me except that it had something to do with a child, and that it was agonizing not to know where the child was. I searched that place and all through my memories; and just before my desperation led me to wander into shadows – and to death – I saw _you_, Eldarion. You led me back to the world of the living, my sweet child; you saved me when no one else could have."

Eldarion rested his cheek on the top of Legolas' head. "And you saved mine, many times" he noted hoarsely. "I guess we were in it together, huh Ada?"

"We were," said Legolas tenderly, "we are, and we always will be."

"So," said Eldarion, not sure of what else to say but not wanting to leave his ada yet. "Do I have to go off to bed now? I've lazed about enough today, so I'm not all that tired. I could stay and give you a hand with the babies if you'd like."

"That is very kind of you," said Legolas in a paternally proud voice. "I accept, thank you."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

It had been a most unusual evening, at least as the cloaked individual had observed it. The prince consort carrying the king around like he was some maiden while they were both almost naked was a sight to behold; but the arrival of the hobbits was the more intriguing event. _'This complicates matters,'_ the person decided, _'but not enough to spoil my plans. It will just take a little more finessing on my part but no matter. I've waited for this for far too long to let some uninvited guests ruin it.'_

Really, the only thing that could mess up the plans was that one of the hobbit children had spotted the individual. But what was that, really? He or she – _'how can anyone tell the difference? All hobbit children look the same to me, with their wooly heads and feet_ – might tell someone about what they'd see but anyone would just attribute it to tiredness and an overactive imagination. Oh, they'd kick themselves later when the plan was carried out successfully, but for now anyone would just dismiss and forget about it.

Well perhaps not Prince Eldarion; he was a clever enough boy to connect what the hobbit child had seen to what he'd seen earlier. Thankfully the boy appeared to be too wrapped up in his excitement at seeing the hobbits to pay much attention to that sighting, though, and his newfound need to be a dutiful son would keep him busy until the hobbit child too forgot what he'd seen. No, Prince Eldarion wouldn't be any threat to the success of the plan.

'_My opportunity is coming soon,'_ the cloaked person thought with great satisfaction. Patience had been a hard-learned lesson but soon the need for it would be over. _'All I have to do now to set my plan in motion is get what one thing I need out of hiding and go to the Houses of Healing for the other one. The trap will soon be set and no one will figure out anything until it's too late.'_

To be continued…


	12. Storm brewing

It was a well-known fact among the noblemen who made up the king's Advisors' Council that King Elessar had a very low tolerance for long, flowery speeches, petty political angling, and generally anything else that prolonged their meetings and kept him from his other duties to his people and his family. Even meetings where every word was necessary, every discussion valid, failed to enthrall him after a certain amount of time unless some great emergency was going on. King Elessar was polite about this, of course, and his advisors made sure to keep things to-the-point and relevant; but there were some times when a long meeting was required and the first meeting right after the king recovered from his illness was one of them.

Unfortunately for them all Gondor and its political life never ceased, not even when the ruler was ill and his spouse insisted on making him rest for an entire week. Aragorn, who was never very good at sitting still when he felt that there were things for him to do, had argued for the whole time (that he was lucid, at any rate) that Legolas was overreacting to what was _obviously_ a very short and relatively minor illness. He'd used every excuse that he could think of but his husband had thwarted each one and had subtly punished Aragorn for wasting both of their energies by making up such ridiculous excuses. One argument that his sickness was making him neglect his poor Laurelin ended up with a day-long visit and the Man having a tangle of braids stuck in his hair for a week. When he tried to convince Legolas to end his bed-rest on the grounds that he wasn't pulling his weight when it came to the babies, the elf and Eldarion (who'd spent most of the week at his ada's side, helping out in any way that he could) had vindictively brought both babies in to him every time that they needed a diaper change. When Aragorn had raised the point that the people needed him to act as king, Legolas had dragged a clearly mortified Faramir into their bedchamber to recite a hideously long list of every political, financial, legal, and diplomatic matter that had arisen since the final month of the elf's pregnancy.

Finally Aragorn, driven to the point of distraction, had suggested to his husband that Legolas had an ulterior motive to his insistence on keeping him abed for so long – such as to get even for all the times when the elf was pregnant and their situation had been reversed. To this Legolas had just smiled, kissed him ever so sweetly, and reminded him that it was a bad idea to make ridiculous and baseless accusations about the person who was overseeing his healthcare. _"It might be interpreted as a sign that you're still not thinking clearly,"_ Legolas had told him with a wicked smile on his face that had made Aragorn's heart pound with an emotion that wasn't anger or frustration. _"And if that's the case I would have to demand that your brothers…and a few healers…and _a lot_ of healing women conduct many, many invasive and embarrassing examinations, just to ease my worried mind."_

That seemed to prove Aragorn's point but he knew enough about Legolas' sense of humor and temperament to realize that it was safer not to push it.

It was almost difficult to believe that his charmingly protective and enticingly vindictive husband was the same elf who was now listening in all seriousness to the advisor Arvedui go on about the political ramifications of the invitations and responses to a soon-to-be thirteen-year-old's birthday party. "In conclusion," said the young advisor. Aragorn could have sworn that he heard muffled sighs of relief coming from all around the table. "Prince Eldarion's birthday celebration allows us the opportunity to remind the rest of Middle-earth that the realm of Gondor has not been this strong, magnificent, and influential since the golden years before the coming of the Shadow."

"We understand that," said Malvegil, one of the only advisors in the room who apparently didn't realize that talking about the prince's party like it was just another political gathering would not sit well with the king. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, first we must send out strict instructions with the invitations," replied Arvedui promptly, "about appropriate attire, not to bring any family under a certain age, and the like. In addition to that, we cannot afford to tolerate any late responses without some form of adequate censure."

"Thank you, Arvedui," said Aragorn a little too quickly and brightly for the sentiment to be entirely sincere. "That was very – detailed. However, I feel compelled to respond to one or two of the suggestions that you just made. First of all, am I correct in thinking that you feel that it would be objectionable to have any children there?"

Arvedui nodded sagely. "Oh yes, sire," he answered emphatically. "This event is a representation of all that Gondor is! It should be an evening of elegance and decorum. Why if any children – anyone who is not of age yet, really – were to attend –"

The rest of the council almost simultaneously leaned back in their chairs as a strange glint appeared in Aragorn's eyes. "It they were to attend, it might resemble, I don't know, a thirteen-year-old's birthday party?" the king interrupted flatly.

"It does seem odd to hold a celebration where the guest of honor is too young to be there," added Legolas in the patient, neutral tone that he always adopted when he spoke up at the Council meetings.

The young advisor faltered, having never thought of that before. "Of course we would make an exception for Prince Eldarion and the princesses…"

"And many more too, but let's not discuss that before I ask about another point," said Aragorn. "That is, what exactly do you suggest that we do if someone takes what we think is too long to respond to an invitation? Declare war? Demand a hefty sum from their realm's treasury? Or would it sufficient to publicly accuse them of being 'mean'"?

"Now you're just being silly," said a foolish-feeling Arvedui. In spite of himself Aragorn smiled to see the Man break through his usual propriety and show a little spunk. "I'm just making the point that this is a political event –"

Aragorn threw his hands up in the air. "It's a _party_," he emphasized. "While I understand that since this is for the crown prince's birthday it has to involve politics on some level, let us not lose sight of the fact that this is supposed to be for my son. At the end of the day what I find most important is that he enjoys himself and knows that this celebration is truly for him and not just some excuse to show off what is good in Gondor."

"I understand, sire," said Arvedui, looking appropriately embarrassed. "Please forgive my insinuations otherwise."

"I already have," smiled Aragorn reassuringly. "And again, thank you for giving the matter so much thought. Now, is that the last of everything that we need to discuss?"

Eärnil hesitantly raised his hand. "I have one more item of business that I wish to bring to your attention, King Elessar," he said respectfully. "As you most likely recall, after our last meeting I brought up something that had been on my mind since we learned about Lady Nienor demise. Have you had time to give the matter any more thought?"

"Ah yes," drawled Aragorn, nodding with a benevolent smile on his face.

He glanced around the table to see everyone but Legolas and Eärnil – the only other people in the room who already knew what this was all about – looking back at him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "It is not often that the king allows an advisor to meet with him in private about serious political matters," noted Malvegil tightly.

There was a reason for that policy: Aragorn knew that if he allowed one of them to speak with him about their pet concerns in private he would have to let all of them do the same lest he be accused of favoritism. He was sure that they were all darkly speculating about what had made him make an exception to this rule now. "My good advisors," he said diplomatically. "This was never supposed to be a secret. Lord Eärnil merely wanted me to know what he was planning on proposing at our next meeting so that neither I nor my husband were taken aback by it."

"So it was appropriate to share this information with one other advisor but not the rest of us?" persisted Malvegil, reminding the king that there was a fine line between Legolas' position on the Council and his role as Aragorn's spouse.

"In this matter it was appropriate to share it with my husband and adar of my children," responded Aragorn evenly but with authority. "It concerns things that are personal to my family as well as political."

"I wished to speak to them about Lady Almarian," added Eärnil solemnly, not wanting to see the meeting dissolve into petty bickering.

At hearing that particular name Tanondor's ears perked up a little. "Lady Almarian, as in Lord Cirion's widow?" he asked. "What about her?"

"Lady Almarian descends from a noble Gondorian line," said Eärnil. "She had lived in Minas Tirith for all of her life up until about thirteen years ago, and only left then because she loved her husband and daughter and did not wish to be parted from them. Now illness has claimed Lord Cirion and Lady Nienor has slain herself; and that good lady of Gondor remains still in exile even though she herself has done no wrong to anyone here. I respectfully request that the king extend an invitation to Lady Almarian to return to the land of her birth."

"Nice speech," commented Aragorn wryly. "Impassioned but to-the-point; although I'm afraid that it was completely unnecessary. I have no objections to the lady returning to Gondor, nor does my husband. We do not hold her responsible for the crimes that the people she loved committed; in fact, I offered to let her stay here when she came to me to ask that Lord Cirion be allowed to remain in Gondor until Lady Nienor's trial was over. There is actually nothing that bars her from returning right now if she so desired to, but if you think that she needs expressed permission to come back I will be more than happy to oblige."

"That is very generous of you, your majesty, Prince Legolas," said Belecthor, nodding to both Aragorn and Legolas in turn. The rest of the advisors looked relieved that the matter hadn't been more important than that, but Malvegil narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

"Thank you," said Aragorn in a mild voice. "Now, if there is no other business" – he paused and looked expectantly out at them and got no response to the contrary – "then I declare this meeting adjourned. Go now with the thanks of your king and realm."

Everyone rose to their feet and headed out the door, gathering together in groups of two and three – as they always did – to discuss things both related and unrelated to the meeting that they'd just had. Aragorn didn't follow; he simply stood where he was and watched as Legolas strolled over to him. "Well," the elf said. "Shall we head back and relieve Ada and Gimli of our children?"

Aragorn discreetly took his arm and glanced over at the stream of people still leaving the room. "I would like it if you stayed here for awhile longer," he said in a low voice. "Your king still requires your presence."

Malvegil rolled his eyes as he and Tanondor, the last of the stragglers, left the meeting hall. "Did you hear that?" he asked in a whisper. "What would you wager that what he needs the prince for has nothing to do with the running of Gondor?"

"Let them be," Tanondor told him as the door shut behind them. "They just want to have a moment alone together. With all that is happening and is going to happen in the next few months they know that they don't have many of those left. They just want to take advantage of all the private moments they can get now."

"Must they conduct their _private moments_ in the Council's meeting hall?" groused Malvegil. "They're probably going to 'celebrate' how _incredibly _kind it was for King Elessar to decide to let poor dear Almarian back into the realm."

"Almarian?" repeated Tanondor with a raised eyebrow. "Is it entirely proper to speak of her without using her title?"

"I am not the only one here who was once close with that family!" hissed Malvegil. "You know that she should never have had to leave Gondor at all, or Cirion either! Cirion was just blowing hot air, like he always did; no one took him seriously – not even Prince Legolas – except for the king. It was only their daughter who actually got the punishment that was proportionate to her crimes."

Tanondor grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop mid-corridor. "If you had any objections to Cirion's punishment you should have brought them up thirteen years ago," he reminded him tersely.

"And be exiled alongside him?" scoffed Malvegil. "I think not."

"A fair-weather friend is no friend at all," commented Tanondor. "If you feel the need to second-guess the king have the honor to do so at the meeting! As for me, I believe with my whole heart that Cirion got what he deserved. King Elessar did and continues to do what he believes is best. Whatever you think should have happened –"

"I have to go," Malvegil cut him off with a disgusted look on his face. "I just – have to go…somewhere else."

Tanondor shook his head sadly as he watched his colleague and old friend stalk away angrily. He'd seen someone else that he'd once counted as a friend behave almost the same way long ago: Lord Cirion, when the former advisor first started to become obsessed with Prince Legolas and the elf's 'hold' over the king. It had been painful to witness Cirion's descent; now he only hoped that he wouldn't have to watch another friend go down that same road.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"So, my king needs one advisor to stay behind and I am he," mused Legolas after the others had left. He was standing with his back to the door but he heard Aragorn shut it; thanks to his keen hearing he was even able to listen as the Man slid its lock into place. "I wonder what he could want from me. Does he need advice on how to word a treaty? A friendly ear to listen to his concerns about a legal matter? Diplomacy lessons? He could never have too many refresher courses on that topic."

Aragorn deliberately walked across the room, not stopping until he was standing so close to Legolas that the front of his body was brushing against the elf's back. "The king doesn't need an advisor," the Man corrected him. He slid his fingers up and down Legolas' neck, urging him ever so gently to let his head fall to one side. When his husband do that Aragorn began planting openmouthed kisses on his exposed throat. "He needs the only person that he's ever been in love with."

"And that person is me?" asked Legolas in mock surprise, his eyes rolling shut under his husband ministrations. "I must beg your pardon then, King Elessar. While you are certainly noble, handsome, and virile, I must decline. My heart and body belong solely to my husband Aragorn."

"That sick old Man?" jeered Aragorn, only half-in character. "Is he any of the things that you just described me as?"

"And more," said Legolas in a firm tone as he took one of the Man's hands and brought it to his lips. "He is also a fantastic father, generous lover, beloved friend, great leader, possesses the kindest soul in Middle-earth, and captured my affections when he was but a child. Plus, his stamina makes it clear to me that he is no old Man and I will not stand to hear _anyone_ say otherwise."

Feeling his heart warm, Aragorn dragged his lips up to Legolas' ear. "Melanin," he whispered breathily into it.

This had the desired effect: Legolas' body was seized with an amorous shudder and he pressed back against him with a gasp. "Aragorn," he sighed. "I want you; do you understand that? The infallible King Elessar persona is very attractive, but that is not the name I scream when I climax. I would die if I couldn't have my Aragorn, whether he be ill or well, serious or silly, or anything else. I _need_ you."

"My dearest, most wonderful Legolas," murmured Aragorn, humbled by his husband's love as he nibbled on the earlobe. "Do you realize how long it's been since we made love?"

"I seem to recall a pleasure-filled evening during my last few weeks of pregnancy," replied Legolas slyly.

"_One month,"_ stated Aragorn mournfully. "It's been one month since the last time I was inside of you, feeling your heart beat all around me. Four whole weeks have gone by since the last time you gave me so much pleasure as I drove you to your peak and stared in awe at your beautiful face as you cried out my name in release. My love, one month has passed since the last time I was treated to the intoxicating sight of your mouth on me, tasting my essence. You do realize that it's been a month since I did _this_ until your mind was drowned in desire and all you could do was moan with need for me?"

Legolas cried out as Aragorn slipped a hand down into his leggings and gripped his arousal but the Man muffled the noise with a sudden, passionate kiss. "What do you think about that, my love?" concluded Aragorn in a husky whisper.

"I think that we shouldn't start this here," replied Legolas, indeed moaning with need as his hips began to move in time with Aragorn's hand. "Oh, if you keep doing that I – I won't be able to walk! Please, Aragorn: let's go back to our bedchamber where we can finish this properly."

"You want to go back where an elf and a dwarf are minding two infants?" asked Aragorn in false incredulousness. "Where we will have to explain in excruciating detail why we need them to take the girls elsewhere, or else not do anything like this at all? Don't think that all I planned on doing right now is letting you climax with just a few little touches; I plan on taking you more thoroughly than I ever have, and I intend on doing it in this room. Why not, my love? The door is locked and it would be so – naughty…"

"Aragorn," said Legolas, trying to sound stern, "how much do you remember about the night that you were so sick with fever?"

"I seem to recall one elf responding favorably to my oh-so-subtle seduction," Aragorn purred. "And I distinctly remember that very same elf removing his leggings," he added, pulling down Legolas' leggings as if to illustrate. "Am I remembering it all wrong?"

Legolas helpfully lifted his legs so that Aragorn could take off his leggings and boots. "You have a good memory for being so delirious at the time," he declared, raising his arms so that his husband could take off his tunic too. Completely naked now, the elf turned around and started working on Aragorn's clothing. "But I didn't say everything that I was thinking that night out loud."

"Is that so?" wondered Aragorn, feigning disappointed astonishment while Legolas stripped off his tunic and ran slender fingers through the hair on his chest. "Now Legolas Greenleaf I'm shocked at you! You should know that the most important aspects of a healthy marriage are honesty and communication."

"I didn't tell you _then_; but I fully intended on telling you at some point," countered Legolas, kissing one nipple and then the other before kissing his way down lower. Slowly he dropped to his knees while pulling Aragorn's pants down to his mid-thigh. "I made a vow to myself that night," he said as he stroked the skin there with his fingertips, "that I would make it up to you for making seductive overtures when I had no intention of going through with it by fulfilling each and every one of my promises as soon as I could."

Aragorn's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he was surrounded by the marvelously wet heat that was Legolas' mouth. He was still amazed at times that an act that he had once regarded with childish disgust and immature giggles when his brothers first told him about it could be so beautiful to him now. Of course, the Man knew that he shouldn't be surprised; Legolas had a way of taking the things and situations that weren't traditionally considered to be beautiful the making them absolutely gorgeous, even when it came to his appearance. Aragorn silently laughed at all the fools who thought that his husband was most exquisite in his formal court robes; they had never seen the elf disheveled, bruised, and strong while fighting orcs at Amon Hen, or on the morning after baby Eldarion's first sleepless night when the elf rocked the infant with an expression of pure exhaustion, protectiveness, pride, and love on his face. It was moments like those when Legolas took Aragorn's breath away the most and the king loved the fact that they only belonged to him.

Besides, how could any act not be beautiful when Legolas was doing that thing with his tongue that Aragorn liked?

"I –" the king began, but was forced to stop when he forgot how to speak for a few seconds. "I – I will…not be – undone yet."

Legolas pulled back, smirking a little when Aragorn let out a regretful moan. "Do you have something better in mind," he asked.

Aragorn clumsily swiped at the tabletop, successfully knocking off everything within reaching distance. "Me. Inside you. Here. Now," he panted.

The Man grabbed hold of Legolas and spun him around until the elf was standing again, with his back to the table, before grabbing his long legs and carefully lowering him down on his back. "I offered to do something very much like this in this very room once, just a few years shy of two decades ago," recalled Legolas. "You refused; why are you changing your mind now?"

"Back then I hated this room and everything that went on in it," explained Aragorn as he parted his husband's legs and moved between them. "I was under the impression that making love to you here would somehow taint what we shared. What can I say? I was young and foolish to turn down sex with you anywhere for such a ridiculous reason."

"Yet now you are wise in your advanced age," Legolas couldn't help teasing. He grinned evilly as he bent his knees up and not even the glowering looks that Aragorn gave him nor the wonderful feeling of his husband preparing him could make the elf hold his tongue. "Triple digits seem to be the key to your intelligence. Thank Elbereth I didn't know you when your age was but a single digit and you were completely witless."

Aragorn cocked an eyebrow as he added more fingers to the preparation. "I love it when you tease me," he declared.

"No you don't," replied Legolas, arching up suddenly as his husband brushed against that arousing spot inside of him. "You get all exasperated and pout until I kiss you and make it all better."

"All right, I'll rephrase that," Aragorn conceded. "I love it when you tease me during passionate moments."

"Why?"

"Because," said Aragorn, a look of complete bliss overcoming his features as he slid his arousal into his husband's body. "_Ohhhhh_. Because I know – that I'm – I'm about to – ah! – rob that tart tongue – mmmmh! – of its – sharp words – soon enough."

And that's exactly what he did. Nothing that wasn't almost completely incoherent came from Legolas' mouth until he cried out the Man's name as Aragorn drove him to his climax.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

There were some sights that should never been seen and some that begged to be witnessed so that others could share in the sheer beauty of them. The cloaked individual wasn't sure which one of those the sight that was just witnessed really was. One the one hand, the person hadn't expected to find the prince kneeling before the king in such a fashion after taking the hidden way to the Council meeting hall, and wasn't sure if it was entirely appropriate to see it. On the other hand, seeing the normally collected elf on his knees, the controlled king gasping for words and breath, and then watching the way that they moved together so exquisitely and lovingly; it was the way that all people should be when with the one that they loved. Their lovemaking could be called art.

It was a shame that their love had caused so much pain for others, for now it would have to cause the king and prince misery beyond count in the very near future and their unique form of art would most likely be gone from the world forever.

'_Why did the king have to force my hand so soon?'_ the individual lamented, coming out of the hidden passage to the main corridor of the royal quarters and moving expertly through it in the shadows. _'All that about invitations and coming back and such – now I have to move ahead with the entire plan faster than I would have liked. A pity, though, that it will stop them from joining like they do; it's really an awe-inspiring sight. Were Gondor a less civilized society I wouldn't hesitate to suggest that they do that in the public square so that all may see how they are when they make love and be humbled by it.'_

Despite all the unexpected things, though, it was turning out to be a good day. Not only had the person got to witness something so wonderful, now there was a reasonable assurance that King Elessar and Prince Legolas would be occupied for awhile. The person halted in front of Princess Laurelin's bedchamber door, feeling the wood before quietly turning the knob. The plan had begun and soon the royal family was going to know nothing but fear and torment.

To be continued…

_A/N: This story now has over 100 reviews. Thank you so much!_

_A/N: This story has been moving a bit slower than I originally intended. You can blame that on me and my hyper need to include _every_ thought that pops into my head; I personally am going to blame my old stuffed elephant because hey, what's he going to do about it? I considered dropping this chapter but some things here are important to the plot. I promise that things are going to start picking up from here on out._


	13. The first move

"This is without a doubt the vilest and most disgusting thing that anyone could ever do _ever_," declared Eldarion adamantly. He stared down at the components that made up the task that had earned such a title with a disbelieving, mortified expression on his face. "I won't complain about having to go to those stupid Council decorum sessions, any of my lessons, or anything else after this."

"And what exactly are you going on about?" asked Gimli, not bothering to hide the humor in his tone. "Are you complaining because of what you have to do, or are you insulting the reason why you have to do it."

"I think it's a little bit of both, Grandpa Gimli," replied Eldarion. "I mean it – this is the _worst_."

The boy could hear his other grandfather chuckling from behind him. He was about to ask why both of them found this so funny when the elf gave him an encouraging pat on the back. "If this is truly the worst task that you will ever have to face then you should consider yourself most fortunate indeed," Thranduil told him jokingly with a touch of sageness in his tone. "The world is full of unpleasant toil and the day will, most likely, come sooner than you think that you will face it. I do not doubt that when it happens you will long to be back in this room, doing exactly what you are doing now. Come, my grandson; at the very least going through this trial now will help you learn how to endure later when the really difficult tasks start happening."

Eldarion rolled his eyes upwards to let out a dramatic sigh and then looked back down, crossing his eyes at the source of all his current miseries: baby Meren, who was lying on her back on the small table before him. She had the gall to smile up at him charmingly and the boy felt much of his hostility drain away, although the annoyance remained. "But she's so small," he complained, trying to clean up his sister's mess and put a new diaper on her without getting said mess all over the table – and himself. "How can such a teeny tiny thing make all of – this?"

"That's one of the great mysteries of the world," said Gimli blithely. "Don't think about it too long and hard, lad; you'll lose your mind trying to figure it out. Just do what everyone else who came before you has done: roll up your sleeves, hold your breath, and dream of the day that they're potty-trained."

The boy groaned something that sounded suspiciously like a whine. "That'll take _at least_ two years," he pouted. "I'll be almost an adult by then."

Thranduil choked a little; Gimli nudged him in the side to be quiet but Eldarion was too wrapped up in his complaining to notice. "Tell me again why I even have to learn how to change a diaper," he said.

"You were the one who came here asking us what you could do to help out your parents more," Gimli reminded him. He shook his head in amazement. "Honestly, Eldarion, with all the time you've spent in here this last week I'm surprised that you don't know how to do this already."

"Ada did the changing for a day," replied Eldarion as he ever so gingerly disposed of yet another cleaning cloth in a nearby bin. "Then Papa tried to get him to let him out of bed by saying that he didn't feel like he was helping out enough with the babies. After that Ada made sure that they were sent in to him every time their diapers needed changing."

"That's my Little Greenleaf," smiled Thranduil. Actually, he and Aragorn had worked out their differences years ago and in the time since then he'd come to accept and even grow fond of the Man who'd married his son. That didn't mean, however, that he couldn't get a little enjoyment out of Legolas teasing his husband every now and again. "But seriously, Eldarion, you _are_ a big brother. Why have you not learned to do this before now?"

"I was seven when Laurelin was born," replied Eldarion defensively as he grabbed a clean pin to fasten Meren's diaper shut. "And I was very jealous of her too. I don't think Ada and Papa would have let me anywhere _near_ her with something sharp. Besides, we had servants to do this job whenever they needed a little extra help; come to think of it, we still do. I don't see, in that case, why Ada and Papa even bother to do this when they can tell other to do it."

"Bah!" Thranduil waved his hand dismissively. "Show me the person who cannot make the time or work up the inclination to change their own child's diaper and I will show you a person who has no business being a parent. Do you truly believe that it was servants who did this when you were a baby? Dear Little Acorn, that task belonged to everyone in the family."

Gimli snorted as he remembered the first time he'd ever changed the boy. "And let me tell you," he chimed in, "you didn't exactly smell like fresh flowers back then."

Had it not been for the fact that he was fiddling with something relatively sharp so close to his little sister's tender skin Eldarion might have let out a self-deprecating laugh. "All right," he conceded begrudgingly but in an exaggerated way. "But still, even if changing diapers is a family duty I probably would have avoided it altogether even back then with Laurelin. Remember that I was obsessed with pretending to be a warrior –"

"_Was _obsessed?" Gimli raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"And really," continued Eldarion, "what warrior would do this?"

Gimli scoffed and the tips of the boy's ears turned red. "Well, I _am_ about to be a warrior-in-training," Eldarion reminded him in a small voice. He wasn't sure if his dwarvish grandfather was just giving him a hard time or else was truly offended but he wasn't especially eager to find out. "You know I don't mean it like what you're thinking; the fact that you two do this doesn't take away from your warrior statuses but I haven't proved myself yet. I want to learn to be Middle-earth's greatest warrior; I don't want people to think that all I'm capable of doing is staying home to mind some baby." His eyes shifted in his head as he went over what he'd just said. "Wait…"

"Just stop speaking, Eldarion; you are only digging yourself in deeper," Thranduil shushed him. "We all have our own paths to follow and yours very well might be to be a warrior, but do not scorn the work that those who tend to children do. Warriors may defend a land but without children their efforts would be in vain."

"What do you mean, Daerada?" asked Eldarion, confused.

"By protecting their realms the warriors ensures that their civilization will survive, but that can last only as long as the warrior can fight," said Thranduil wisely. "By making sure that children grow up physically healthy with honor and knowledge of the past those who mind the children give their realm all that it needs to survive long after the warriors pass on. Both tasks are important, my grandson; do you understand why?"

"Yes, Daerada," said Eldarion dutifully.

"Put your family first, lad," added Gimli gruffly. "Sometimes we all have to do what's right by our loved ones by choosing to do things that we might not otherwise do if we were lone warriors. There is a great honor in that, one that precious few people understand that until it's too late."

"All right, all right; I give up," Eldarion laughed. "I admit that this task is just as important as most of the others that I've learned before and will learn in the future."

He paused to put the last pin in place. When he was certain that the diaper was going to stay in place he scooped little Meren up in his arms. She looked at him curiously and he felt even his annoyance dissipating. He had to admit that if he hadn't just had to deal with her excrement he might have even said out loud that she was adorable. "Well – well, we're all done here."

Two sets of hands went immediately to the baby's behind as Thranduil and Gimli examined the boy's work. "Not bad," noted Gimli with just as much pride as he'd had after he'd seen Eldarion skillfully handle his wooden toy sword for the first time. "And with some practice – day after day after day of it – you just might prove to be a help to your fathers yet."

"Huh" grunted Eldarion, pondering how it was that Gimli and his ada had the exact same sense of humor when they weren't even the same race, let alone blood-related. The wheels in his head started churning as he eyed Meren's cherubic face. His eyes brightened as another unrelated idea struck him. "But wouldn't it be more of a help if no one had to do this at all? We could just let the twins go about without their diapers and have them do what comes naturally."

This time Thranduil laughed out-right. "Yes, and that will not make any kind of mess at all," he said, coughing as he tried to choke his amusement back.

Gimli was just aghast. "_That's_ what you're finding wrong with his plan?" he demanded, exasperated. He turned back to Eldarion. "Boy, your sisters are babies, not puppies!"

Eldarion flushed but before he could offer up any defense or apologies Thranduil shook his head. "Oh, let the boy alone, Gimli," the elf told him. Eldarion knew as soon as he spoke that his grandfather was fighting back a particularly loud guffaw. "His plan might not be very well thought-out but that does not mean that he is the first person to think of it. I had the exact same notion when Legolas was only a little bit older than Meren and Gilraen are now; and I have no doubt that it has also crossed my Little Greenleaf's mind as well."

The young prince tried to imagine his dedicated ada becoming disgusted and frustrated enough to consider leaving his children diaper-less. "When?" he asked suspiciously.

"Why, when he was new at doing this, just like you are now," answered Thranduil casually. He grinned as a look of realization came to his grandson's face. "But he never let it happen, as I did not before him and you will not in the future. Do not let yourself be troubled, Eldarion; it is just that the three of us think very much alike."

"Because we're family?" wondered Eldarion wryly, picking up the theme of the conversation.

"Perhaps," replied Thranduil cheerfully. "But I believe that it has more to do with what is called 'the parent's curse'."

Eldarion cocked an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate. "Once upon a time I was an elfling," sighed the elven king. "And I must admit that I misbehaved frequently; and every time I did so, after my punishment, my father would kneel down, grab my shoulders firmly, and say in the calmest voice possible: 'one day I hope that you have a child that is _exactly_ like you'."

"Hey," said a voice from behind them. Thranduil, Gimli, and Eldarion turned around to see that Aragorn and Legolas had finally returned from the Council meeting. It had been Legolas who'd spoke after hearing only the last part of what his father had just said. "I remember that! You used to tell me that all the time when I was an elfling."

"My father did too," piped in Aragorn. "To me, I mean."

"And I can see that it came true on both sides," smirked Gimli. He ruffled Eldarion's hair fondly. "Though I must say that Eldarion has never really had the problem with being on time that you two seem to struggle with more and more everyday. You said that you were going to be back a half-hour ago! What took you so long?"

The couple exchanged a look that could have been described as playfully calculating. "Oh, just attending to matters that had been delayed for far too long," replied Legolas breezily. Aragorn simply smiled dreamily as his husband casually tucked a strangely out-of-place strand of hair behind his ear. "But I'm sure that the three of you would find all of that very uninteresting."

"Do you need a comb, my Little Greenleaf?" asked Thranduil in a tight voice that was only just a little playful.

Gimli shook his head. "There's another reason why you needed to learn how to change a diaper, Eldarion," said Gimli pointedly, though there was no malice or any real reproach in his tone. "You're parents lack a certain amount of self-control. I wouldn't be surprised if your ada had many more children sooner than you think."

"_What?"_ Eldarion goggled at his parents. "You're pregnant again already, Ada?"

"Of course he's not, my son," broke in Aragorn quickly in a falsely airy voice. "Gimli is simply going on about things that he shouldn't in the presence of young ears. But that is not important right now. What I'm more interested in is if I just heard correctly. Has my son really learned that most useful and valuable skill?"

Eldarion patted his sister's diapered behind. "See for yourself," he said with joking pride.

Legolas stepped closer to examine his son's handiwork. "Not bad," he commented, pleased. "Not bad at all. It looks like it's actually going to stay on – which is more than I can say for your papa's first time doing it."

"There was _nothing_ wrong with the way that I pinned that diaper," argued Aragorn defensively, though he knew from years of having this same conversation that it was a losing point.

"Of course, my love," agreed Legolas as if he were encouraging a three-year-old. Grinning broadly he kissed Aragorn on the cheek. "I know a certain dwarf who would beg to differ. Don't worry," he added when the Man gave him a forlorn expression. "I will always love you, even when you can't admit you need help with pinning a diaper…and wind up inadvertently insulting a whole delegation of dwarves at a formal dinner because of it."

"You're _so_ funny," said Aragorn sarcastically. "Well, maybe since our son is so talented perhaps he –"

A horrified piercing scream shattered the air around them, making all five of the non-infants in the room jump. "Ada! Papa!" shrieked Laurelin. It sounded like her voice was coming from her bedchamber; she sounded absolutely petrified. _"Help me!"_

"Elbereth," breathed Legolas in alarm, charging forward without another thought besides his eldest daughter's safety and what might be threatening it.

Aragorn followed closely behind his husband with Thranduil and Gimli coming up at his heels. Eldarion made a move to go with them but the Man turned around just long enough to see what he was planning. "Stay with the babies, Eldarion!" he called to him quickly. "I'm counting on you to take care of them until one of us gets back."

Reluctantly Eldarion stopped in his tracks. "There's just as much honor in staying behind and keeping the children safe as there is in charging into battle," he reminded himself in a mutter. He didn't sound convinced, though only his baby sisters were around to hear the worry and frustration in his voice.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Legolas ran faster than he ever had before down the seemingly endless corridor to Laurelin's closed bedchamber door. Once there he attacked it fiercely, expecting it to be barred against him, and ended up almost ripping it off the hinges. It flew open with such sudden force that it barely missed hitting Aragorn in the face; under ordinary circumstances Legolas would have apologized and the Man would have lovingly teased his husband before accepting. On that day, however, the elf didn't even notice how he almost gave his husband a concussion and Aragorn just grimly shook it off and kept going.

Laurelin heard their rather noisy entrance immediately. She tore across the room and threw herself into her ada's arms before he was more than five steps into the room. "Ada," she sobbed, clinging to Legolas' neck so hard that she was leaving marks.

"My daughter," gasped Legolas as he held onto her tightly; he could the violent tremors shaking her little body. He scanned the room frantically for something or someone who could have scared her so badly but he didn't see anyone else in the room. "What happened? Are you all right?"

The girl continued to cry and gave no other answer. "Did someone hurt you?" Legolas prompted her, imagining all the terrible things that could have happened, things that she might have a difficult time talking about later. His stomach started churning and the only reason why he didn't get sick right then and was because he was so angry that he was practically breathing fire. "Did someone threaten you? Please, Laurelin: tell me what happened and I'll hunt down whoever's responsible and make very certain that it will never happen again."

"Legolas." Aragorn appeared at his husband's elbow, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. The elf stopped and sucked in a few deep, cleansing breaths before smiling at his husband to assure him that he was now sufficiently calm. Too bad he didn't realize that it looked more like a grimace. "Let me take her for a moment. I need to give her a little check-up."

He slowly reached out to take their daughter; Legolas struggled internally but at last he forced himself to loosen his arms enough to let him scoop her away. Once he adjusted her so that they would both be comfortable, Aragorn discreetly checked for any signs of injuries. Except for the fact that she was badly shaken she appeared to be just fine. "What happened, Laurelin?" he asked in his firmest yet gentlest tone he could.

"Oh, P-p-p-papa," she stammered, still not in control of her voice.

"Shhhh," whispered Aragorn soothingly as he rocked her back and forth, taking the opportunity to scan the room for any sign of a struggle while he did so. There was none that he could see and he turned his head in to nuzzle the girl's hair as Legolas came closer and started rubbing circles on her back. "Papa and Ada are here now; we're going to make everything all right, but first we need you to tell us what happened to scare you so badly."

Laurelin took several deep gulping breaths. "I-I-I was p-p-playing in – in the kitchens," she started with some difficulty.

The royal couple threw looks back at Thranduil and Gimli, who appeared to be just as surprised by this news as Aragorn and Legolas were. The little girl had decided before her parents had gone off to the Council meeting that she would stay in her bedchamber to play, claiming that she didn't want to sit around an antechamber where she had to be very quiet lest she disturbed the babies. Seeing that the rooms were close enough together and that there were guards about everyone decided that this would be all right. Now all four adults had to swallow their urges to scold her for not keeping her promise to stay put.

"Did something happen to you there?" questioned Legolas anxiously.

Tears were brimming in Laurelin's bright blue eyes as she shook her head. "No," she said pitifully. "I just went down there to visit with the kitchen girls and get a cookie. Then I got all caught up in playing and stuff and ended up staying down there for a really long time. When I got back…"

Her voice trailed off and she began sobbing again. "Yes?" pressed Aragorn. Perhaps it _had_ been better that she had left the bedchamber when she did. "What happened next?"

"When I got back _those _were there," she choked out, pointing to the bed. "It was all wrapped up in nice paper and the pretty flower had a beautiful ribbon tying a note to it…"

Four sets of eyes followed her finger to see a small box, more long than wide, sitting on her bedspread with paper shredded all around it. No one was shocked to see this – Laurelin was infamous for the way she opened presents – but they were taken aback at the sight of the flower. "That's an irila," said Aragorn in muted horror. That particular type of flower was indeed beautiful but its potion was deadly, as they had all witnessed firsthand when Lady Nienor poisoned Legolas with its potion when he was pregnant with Eldarion.

"My name was on the note," Laurelin explained tearfully. "And both were in here just waiting for me so I figured that I could open the gift right away."

She started crying once again. Legolas pressed a kiss into the back of her head. "It wasn't a nice thing," she wailed. "I had to slam the lid back down again because it was so awful."

"Oh, all this fuss over a lousy gift?" tsked Gimli lightly, hoping that she wouldn't be so frightened if they didn't make such a big deal about it. Besides, as he told himself over and over again silently as he confidently crossed the bedchamber and picked up the offending box, it was probably left by one of the hobbit wives or children, ones who didn't understand why the irila flower wouldn't be an appropriate gift for a member of that particular family. "Let's just take a good look at – oh, good Aüle!"

A look of absolute disgust came to his face and it took all of his willpower not to drop the box or fling it away. As it was he had to jerk it as far away from him as his grasp would allow. "Get her out of here to a safe place," he ordered in a horrified tone. "Then get as many guards as you can to come here at once!"

"Gimli?" asked Legolas. The fact that the normally unshakable dwarf was so unnerved made him tear his eyes away from the admittedly beautiful, if slightly wilted, flower. "What is it?"

Gimli couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, especially not with the frightened Laurelin still in the room. Instead he ever so slowly tilted the box up so that everyone could see inside. Laurelin didn't look and just buried her head into her papa's neck even more. Thranduil, Aragorn, and Legolas looked, though, and it took their minds several seconds to register what exactly was in the box. At that point they let out a collective gasp.

Nestled on top of a bed of fine silk was a carefully positioned human finger.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Fifteen minutes later Laurelin was in her fathers' antechamber with her sisters and brothers under their watchful eyes of Thranduil, Gimli, and two guards who were posted right outside the door. Not that the guards' presences were much comfort to Aragorn and Legolas at the moment, but still it felt like they needed to be there. The couple remained in the princess' bedchamber, where the rest of the guards that were assigned to the royal quarters of the citadel that day were gathered after answering the summons of the king and prince consort. "I want to know how this happened," ordered Aragorn, his voice shaking with rage and fear. "I want to know who did this to my little girl, why they did it, and how it was that they were able to do it! What do you all say to that?"

"We, ah," said the guard Mardil, ashen-faced more because of what the princes found than because he now had to answer to the enraged king. "We don't know, sire. No one – no one saw anything usual."

"Really now?" Aragorn's voice turned nasty and he glowered at them all. "So am I right in understanding that someone just waltzed into my daughter's bedchamber in the middle of the morning and Gondor's finest didn't notice? What if this person had planned on doing more than just leaving her a toxic flower and a dead person's finger for a present?"

"We're sorry, your majesty," apologized Mardil contritely. "It will not happen again."

"Aragorn," said Legolas faintly.

The Man was so intent on berating the damnably lax guards that he didn't register his husband's soft voice. "It had better not," he fumed at them. "Valar, why have guards at all if the princess isn't safe in her own bedchamber? It seems to me that she was better off with the kitchen girls!"

"Aragorn," Legolas tried again, this time louder.

Aragorn looked back to see Legolas sitting on Laurelin's bed, holding the box in his hand and examining its contents. "I don't think – this might not belong to a dead person," the elf told him in a far away voice. He very carefully nudged it with his pinkie and shuddered. "It's – it's fresh. Either it came from someone who died no later than yesterday –"

"Or it belongs to a living person, perhaps someone who was too ill to stop another person from removing it," Aragorn concluded for him.

Legolas nodded. "We should check the Houses of Healing to see if anyone there is missing a…"

The Man knelt before his husband and gently took the offending box but Legolas didn't let go. "Please put that down, my love," he coaxed tenderly. "You don't have to look at it anymore; we'll have someone take care of it."

The finger shifted when Aragorn tried to take the box, exposing something that caught Legolas' eye. "Wait," said the elf. Cautiously he reached in and pinched what looked like a strand of gold below the finger and pulled it out, revealing a gold pendent on a delicate chain. "What in the world do you think this is all about?"

Aragorn's skin went cold when he recognized the markings on the pendent. "It's – it's a piece of women's jewelry, usually given to the young unmarried daughters in a lord's house," he answered grimly. "On it is a family crest. I know this particular one: it belongs to the family of Lord Cirion."

To be continued…


	14. The walls close in

_Two weeks later…_

"That tears it," declared Pippin. His usually jovial face was gray with an underlying fury festering beneath the surface as he assessed the condition he'd found his clothing in when he woke up. "I'm going to Aragorn and Legolas right now to have those guards of ours dismissed; really, I'd prefer to see them literally _catapulted_ right out of the city, but I can settle for having them dismissed."

Diamond hurried over to her husband's side and comfortingly clasped his hand. "Please keep your voice down," she requested pleadingly, glancing over her shoulder at their son who was thankfully still sleeping. There had once been a time when she wouldn't have believed that Pippin and his two friends were capable of being both normal hobbits and fierce warriors; now she knew that the latter part had never really come out in their lives in the Shire only because the motivation hadn't been there. He was truly a sight to behold when the people he loved were being threatened. "You don't know if this has anything to do with what happened in the princess' bedchamber."

"Look around, Diamond," he said as he gestured wildly. "What do you remember seeing last night?"

She sighed. "We had the clothes that came back from the wash yesterday piled up on the chest at the end of our bed," she reported dutifully.

"And what do you see before you now?"

"All of the clothing that we left out isn't there; judging by the way our packs are bulging I'd say that they were put away in there," said Diamond. Pippin opened his mouth but she quickly cut him off. "But what of it? We aren't the only two people in the room, Pippin. Who's to say that our Faramir wasn't trying to be helpful?"

"This is _our_ Faramir we're talking about," Pippin reminded her. "When was the last time he ever put any of his own clothes away, let alone someone else's? No, my dear; someone else came into our bedchamber while we slept and I can guess who that someone was."

"A servant," she supplied hopefully. He just shook his head and stared hard at her. "My husband, there are servants running around all over this place! They were just trying to make our lives a little easier, considering how things have been around here these last two weeks."

Pippin marched over to the foot of the bed and grabbed one of his packs, jerking it to him with such force that it ended up hitting him in the stomach. "I might believe that," he seemingly conceded, "if things like this haven't been happening to everyone, with no one stepping forward to claim responsibility for any of it."

"Yes, I know," she moaned wearily. "Rose told me about coming back to her bedchamber the other night to find that vase of fresh flowers –"

"Irilas," interrupted Pippin grimly.

"And poor Estella is already so nervous that she almost fainted when she found that tray of bread and honey sitting outside of hers and Merry's door last week," continued Diamond.

"Those were the foods that Legolas was eating when that horrible woman poisoned him the last time," Pippin informed her in an agitated tone.

Diamond visibly shuddered as she tried to block out the distinct possibility that a dangerous, possibly insane, person had been able to get into their bedchamber with them in there and guards supposedly posted outside. "And there have been piles of fresh diapers that's been left near Legolas and Aragorn's bedchamber every morning since the day after Laurelin got…" her voice trailed off. "Sometimes they have those flowers on top of them. Oh, Pippin, why does that or any of the other stuff like it have to mean that someone terrible's been about? Why can't it just mean that there's a nice person out there who's trying to be helpful?"

"Because a nice person would realize that now is not the time to be doing anonymous things around the royal quarters, even if they are nice," replied Pippin, his tone softening a bit when he saw how shaken she really was. "Think about it: there are guards posted outside of our doors as well as Elladan and Elrohir's and Legolas and Aragorn's. Their children have been sleeping _in_ their bedchamber because they can't trust that the little ones are safe on their own anymore. Every time something unexplainable happens – like this – everyone from the Council to the servants who've never been in the royal quarters before gets questioned and questioned again. Anyone who isn't malicious or else totally dense would see that their 'good deeds' are doing nothing but scaring the people that they're supposed to be helping and confess."

"But why would anyone who wants to hurt all of us be doing things that are helpful?" wondered Diamond in a small voice.

"The message isn't in the deed but in the action," observed Pippin. He opened up his pack and reached in to find a clean shirt only to pull out a handful of irila petals. When he spoke again, his voice was much more quiet and filled with horror. "He wants us to know that he can get to any of us at any time he chooses; that right now the only reason why we haven't been attacked is because he's decided not to do it – yet."

Still holding the purplish-blue petals tightly in his fist, the hobbit marched over to the door and yanked it open, startling the guards on the other side in the process. "My lord!" gasped one of them in surprise. "I'm sorry; we weren't expecting you to do…oh no," he breathed when he saw what Pippin was clutching. "It didn't…it couldn't have…we were out here all night, Master Took."

"Is that so?" asked Pippin flatly. "Don't answer that; just go tell the Gamgees and Brandybucks to come here a few minutes before we have to leave. I don't want to be surprising them with this when we get to the king and prince's bedchamber in a half-hour."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

At times Aragorn thought that he was losing his mind and that morning was no exception. The hobbits had agreed to watch Eldarion, Laurelin, Gilraen, and Meren so that Thranduil and Gimli could have a little rest and what happened? The Tooks had gotten a little visit from the mysterious stalker sometime during the night. They'd told the others what had happened before making their way to the children; the Man could tell by the way that Rose and Sam had drawn their numerous children to them and by how the increasingly skittish Estella looked ready to bolt for the city's gate at a moment's notice. Merry's wife hadn't seemed all that thrilled about the prospect of minding the children in the first place and now that the danger was closer than ever she appeared to be downright petrified all of the time.

What bothered Aragorn most, though, was his apparent inability to do anything to ensure his family's safety. Laurelin still cried in her sleep no matter how much he tried to soothe her fears; ordering all of the guards he could conscionably spare from the defense of the city hadn't done anything to stop the hobbits and his brothers from being subtly threatened; and as he'd listened to Legolas and Pippin commiserate that morning he'd realized that he couldn't even make his own husband feel safe in their chambers. All Aragorn seemed to be able to do is bark out commands and go to Council meetings – like the one that he was in that moment – and none of those actions were putting a stop to the problems at hand.

He might have felt a little better if this meeting seemed to be making any progress; unfortunately, though, all it appeared to be doing was going in as many circles as the previous ones had. "We can always question the guards again," suggested Belecthor after Aragorn's call for any information was answered unsatisfactorily. The exhaustion was evident in his voice. "They have been cooperating most admirably."

"If you call saying _I don't know, I haven't seen anything_ over and over again cooperating," sneered Malvegil with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly, my king, I've never seen such a high level of incompetence before; or are you not having them guard _all_ of the entrances to the royal quarters?"

"It would be rather stupid of him if he hadn't," spoke up Legolas evenly. Only Aragorn, who knew him better than anyone, could tell that his husband was feeling very testy. "You aren't calling your king stupid, are you?"

"No, my prince," answered Malvegil sullenly. He looked like he wanted to say something else but then he crossed his arms and looked down.

Belecthor cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he asserted, "the guards have been cooperating quite well and seem to possess a keen understanding as to why we feel the need to question them over and over again. That won't last soon, I fear, if we don't start narrowing down the suspect list –"

"What are you saying?" snapped Eärnil furiously. "Do you think that they're starting to resent the fact that their king requires their full cooperation in finding the person who's been threatening his family?"

"I haven't sensed anything of the sort," replied Belecthor defensively. "I'm just saying that people in general will not tolerate being held in suspicion for an indefinite amount of time without sufficient evidence. They have done nothing to deserve this –"

Eärnil scoffed with so much force that he almost choked. "Nothing?" he interrupted scornfully. "How about failing so utterly at their jobs that they don't notice who's been leaving little girls body parts and creeping into hobbits' bedchambers while they sleep? Why do you want to accommodate them if they're feeling as if they've been treated unfairly? The whole lot of them should be grateful that they aren't facing a much more severe punishment – yet."

"No one feels more terrible about the breaches in security than the guards do!" Belecthor argued.

The other advisor snorted. "I'm sure that Princess Laurelin has been feeling quite awful about it too," he shot back sarcastically. "I've seen the poor girl; it looks like she hasn't slept in days."

"Enough." Aragorn's stern, commanding voice broke through their debate and drew everyone's attention to him. He gripped a pen to keep his hands from shaking; after all, his nerves might have been coming undone under the weight of all of his fears, worries, frustrations, and now the mention of how one of his children were suffering because he couldn't do his job, but why let the Council know about all of that? "Isn't it bad enough that you're wasting both your time and mine bickering amongst yourselves?"

"Sire –"

"I said enough," said Aragorn in a clipped tone. "We are getting nowhere as it is without you taking the time to drag my daughter into your disputes. Here is what I have to say on the matter: the guards can handle being questioned for the time being; if any of them feel that they're being mistreated, please direct them to address their concerns to me or else be quiet about it. However, Lord Belecthor is right – we cannot keep just questioning them blindly. We _must_ find a way to solve this soon or else I'm afraid that we won't know anything until – until it may be too late."

The room fell silent as the gravity of what the king had just said hung over all of their heads. No one wanted to even entertain what could possibly constitute 'too late' in this situation. "Your majesty," spoke up Arvedui as he wrung his hands nervously, "maybe – maybe we're simply reading too much importance into this."

"What do you mean?" demanded Aragorn reservedly.

"No one will ever deny the hideous nature of what was left for Princess Laurelin to find," added the advisor hurriedly. "But nothing like that has happened since then. It's entirely possible that the presents were nothing more than someone's idea of a sick joke and the rest of it just a coincidence, the acts of some well-meaning, if thoughtless and perhaps overly enthusiastic, individual who now fears stepping forward because of all the ado raised over it."

"We all wish that was true, but I'm afraid that it isn't," said Legolas in a voice that was calm and yet spoke volumes about his weariness.

Aragorn looked at his husband. When Legolas looked back the Man was suddenly reminded of the week between Lady Nienor's attacks over a decade ago when the elf had stayed inside until he almost gave himself over to the grief of being cut off from the living earth. Was something like that going to happen again? Was this mysterious stalker going to corner his family into a self-made prison until their lives were almost a living death?

Then Legolas gave him a small supportive smile and Aragorn knew that at least one thing was different this time: he and his husband had a much deeper understanding of each other and their relationship. Instead of almost letting it tear them apart they were going to deal with the situation together. The realization madefeel suddenly bolstered. "Legolas is right," he declared in a finalizing tone. "Once might be interpreted as a coincidence but these little random acts have happened too often – and have the irila flower linking them to each other and to what happened in Laurelin's bedchamber – to dismiss as such. This person might not have done anything has horrifying as he first did – _yet_ but I for one would rather catch whoever's responsible before he gets the chance to send one of my children an even more gruesome body part."

A chorus of murmurs filled with variations of "of course, your majesty" came from all around the table. "Good," Aragorn declared with a nod. "You all have your orders as to what you're supposed to do before our next meeting. I now dismiss you with my thanks and wish you good fortune as you continue on with your investigations. Remember – leave no stone unturned, no matter how implausible it may be."

Usually the advisors lingered on in the meeting hall for a bit afterwards, or else strolled out leisurely while chattering with their friends and colleagues, but not that day. The situation seemed to call for them to maintain an air of solemnity and purpose and with that in mind they all left the hall rather quickly until there were only two people left in their respective places: Aragorn and Legolas. The Man didn't say anything as he slowly rose from his seat and walked over to kneel down in front of Legolas. "I'm sorry, my love," he whispered.

"For what?" Legolas asked him with a good deal of love in his voice. "For not being able to read minds and someone just _know_ who's been doing these things? Then I should be apologizing too, for I haven't stopped this stalker from scaring our family either. You've always been too hard on yourself, Aragorn. I for one can't see what else you could be doing."

"I just wish that there was something that I could do that to make you feel any better," lamented Aragorn. "I can't seem to do anything: not keep you safe, nor our children or the rest of our family…"

Legolas gently covered the Man's mouth with his fingers. "I think I'd be comforted if you'd let me hold you," he said.

"All right," agreed Aragorn softly. "But only if you let me hold you in return."

"That's usually how that sort of thing works," teased Legolas quietly as he wrapped his arms around his husband. The elf then let out a content sigh as he felt two strong arms reciprocate and the couple stayed like that for a long time.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

As Aragorn and Legolas comforted each other, the advisor Tanondor was hurrying to catch up with Eärnil in the corridor. "Eärnil," he called, halting as the Man in question stopped. "Might I have a moment of your time?"

"I promised my wife that I would make the time to have lunch with her before I had to carry out my assignments for the king," Eärnil replied distractedly. "This can really only take a moment."

"All I want to know is if I can meet with you sometime this evening," said Tanondor. "I have a theory about why no one's been able to catch this stalker yet, but I'm unsure as to how I could present it to the king. You are much closer to him than I and I would certainly appreciate your advice."

"You don't have to be close to the king to approach him with something like that," admonished Eärnil incredulously. "If you have any clue as to what's going on you should just tell him immediately, Tanondor!"

The other Man looked over his shoulder apprehensively. "Please keep your voice down," he requested in a hiss. "I can't do that because I don't have any proof and – well, and the king won't want to believe it even if I had an abundance of it. Not that I would blame him," he added regretfully. "_I _don't want to believe it."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"There's something that's not right about this," muttered Merry. He gave his chair a few absentminded rocks as he frowned thoughtfully at baby Gilraen in his arms.

"That's just dawned on you now?" wondered Pippin dryly.

Merry glowered at him. "You know what I mean," he stressed. "It's like there's a piece of the puzzle that's not fitting, and we're not allowed to see the piece or how it's supposed to fit into the rest of it. I can feel the answer hanging on the edge of my mind but I just can't figure it out."

"Don't go putting so much pressure on yourself, Mr. Merry," advised Sam. "No one's expecting you to come up with the solution to this mess."

"I did before," replied Merry glumly. "So what's so different about now?"

"There's a lot that's different and a lot that's the same – none of which any of you should be talking about now," Rose scolded them all as she jiggled Meren in her arms to keep her pouting from becoming crying. "The children are in the same room, for the Shire's sake! Let's talk about nice things right now and save the dark parts for a time when we've got some more privacy."

Sam, Merry, and Pippin all nodded silently, knowing that she was right and that it was useless to argue anyway. "Good," declared the female hobbit. She shook her head as if to rid it of all the ominous feelings and then smiled at Estella, who was hovering around anxiously at the edge of their group. "Estella, would you like to hold little Meren? I don't believe you've gotten a turn with either one of the babies."

"No, I –" Estella looked lost for a second. "I wouldn't know what to do."

"It's easy once you get the hang of it," offered Diamond kindly. "We can show you how right –"

"I'm not ready to," Estella practically begged. "Not now, please."

Across the room, Elanor listened to everything that her parents, aunts, and uncles were talking about. "I don't understand Aunt Estella sometimes," she confided to Eldarion and Frodo, who were sitting with her on the floor as the younger children played around them. "She used to like holding babies, even if she didn't get to do it very often. What in Middle-earth is wrong with her now?"

"Maybe she's coming to her senses," suggested Frodo, nibbling on one of his fingernails. "I don't see what the big deal is about babies anyway."

Elanor stared at him, annoyed. "I wish Findowyn was here," she groused. "Another girl would understand. I need more than a bunch of boys to talk to."

"Findowyn wouldn't get it," Eldarion told her knowledgably. "She doesn't go for that sort of thing. I bet she'd be more interested in hearing about my hunting knife again rather than in trying to hold one of my sisters."

Frodo's ears perked up. "A hunting knife?" he repeated. The young hobbit leaned forward eagerly. "It's not a _real_ knife, is it?"

"You bet it is," grinned Eldarion proudly. "Papa gave it to me awhile ago so that I could learn how to take care of and respect my own weapons. It's so amazing, all curved and sharp and shiny – I could behead so many orcs in one single blow with that weapon."

"This I've got to see," declared Frodo. "Dad, dad! Can Eldarion and I go to his bedchamber for a second?"

"I don't think I've ever heard a more terrible idea," Sam told him in a deceptively light tone.

"But he's got this knife that I have to see!" protested Frodo with a whine. "We'll come right back, we promise!"

"No," said Sam firmly. "You two can just go stick your heads out the door and ask one of the guards to go to his bedchamber to get the toy for you."

"But I don't want anyone else to know where I keep it!" jumped in Eldarion. He wasn't just being difficult – Aragorn had warned him not to be too free in telling people where he kept his weapons when he wasn't using them. "Maybe I could just run and get it and bring it back here."

Sam looked from Frodo's enthusiastic face to Eldarion's hopeful one. The last two weeks hadn't given any of them too much to get excited about and he couldn't find it in his heart to refuse them this little bit of happiness. "Fine then," he gave in reluctantly. "But you take a guard with you and make sure that he stays with you until you're back here. I don't want to hear about you giving him the slip at any point."

"I won't, I won't, I swear!" whooped Eldarion elatedly. He let out one last "thanks!" and ran to the door.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"You can't be serious," said the guard, staring at Eldarion with a great deal of wariness.

The boy sighed. It had been a bit of a struggle to get one of the guards to agree to come with him to his bedchamber in the first place; only the threat of him going alone made one of them finally budge and Eldarion knew that he was going to get in trouble for it later. Well, if he was already in trouble a little more wouldn't make much of a difference. "I just want you to wait outside while I run in to get what I came to get," he said. "You've already checked around; what's the harm in walking outside a minute before I do?"

"If your parents find out…." The guard sighed in defeat. "Fine. Just don't take too much time."

"I won't!" Eldarion called cheerfully after him as the Man walked out of the door. When it closed he ran over to the bed and got down on his hands and knees. He felt the beams supporting his mattress, counting until he got to the fourth one in and frowned. He kept his knife tucked in between his mattress and that beam; usually he put his hand on it right away but today he couldn't seem to locate it.

Eldarion was concentrating on his search, but not so much that he missed the sound of a door opening behind him. He was about to yell at the guard for not giving him privacy when he realized that the bedchamber door wasn't behind him – it was to his right. The only door that was behind him was to his wardrobe and that had _never_ opened on its own before. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the young prince froze, not sure of what to do.

"Are you looking for something?" a person behind him asked. The voice sounded strange; like someone he'd heard before was deliberately making his voice sound different. "It's a fine knife, to be sure. Very deadly in the right hands – and perhaps in the wrong ones as well."

A surge of terror surged through Eldarion when he heard the sound of a blade being pulled from its scabbard, but that emotion wasn't quite as strong as his anger. It was the stalker – he was sure of it – and the same disgusting person who'd left that awful stuff for his little sister and had been threatening his family for much too long was now threatening him with the special knife that his father had given him. Common sense and self preservation gave way to righeous indignation as the young prince resolutely stood up. "Why you –" he barked out as he whipped around.

The boy briefly glimpsed a cloaked figure that brought up a forgotten memory before a great pain seized his body. A sea of red swam before his eyes; then that gave way as Eldarion fell into a black nothingness.

To be continued…


	15. Aftermath of an attack

Sam unconsciously clenched his fists as he glanced anxiously at the antechamber door once again. "How long has it been?" he muttered, mostly to himself.

"About a minute longer since the last time that you asked that question," replied Merry. He might have sounded annoyed were it not for the worry in his voice. He knew as well as Sam or any other adult hobbit in there that Eldarion's bedchamber was _not_ that far away; the boy should have been back by now. Still, his absence hadn't been for so long that it couldn't be explained with the everyday distractions that would slow down a twelve-year-old boy. "He probably just found some toys or something that he thought he'd lost and got caught up in playing…"

"Well, I don't like it," declared Sam. "Maybe it's that; but Eldarion's a good boy. He knows better than to keep us waiting at a time like this."

"He might know better but that doesn't always stop people from doing stuff," argued Merry. "After all, we knew better than to go off with Frodo two decades ago but that's exactly what we ended up doing."

Sam gave him a pointed look. "That was different and you know it," he said, jumping to his feet. "I'm going to go looking for him."

Merry couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for Eldarion, what with all he'd been going through lately and how that wasn't likely to change soon. "We're his uncles, not his jailors," he stressed. "Let the poor boy alone for a minute! How long has it been since he didn't have a bunch of people hanging over his shoulder?"

"No, Merry; Sam's right," spoke up Pippin. The hobbit gripped the arms of the rocking chair and stared wide-eyed at his cousin. "I know that it isn't fair to Eldarion to keep him all cooped up but right now I care more about him coming back safe than I do about being fair. Even if he did get distracted I doubt that guard that went with him would let him dawdle around for too long. Either something's happened or else the guard's left him for some reason – these days I wouldn't be too shocked if it was either one. Go, Sam."

"All right, Sam, go," conceded Merry thoughtfully. It wasn't really all that hard for him to give in; it was more because of sympathy to a fellow troublemaker and the lack of insight that being a father gave to Sam and Pippin than actually believing that nothing was wrong that made him debate the point in the first place. "But be careful and don't be going alone if you think that there's going to be trouble at the end of it."

"Right," agreed Sam. He plastered on his brightest fake smile and waved to the children. "I'm going off for a few minutes. Be good until I get back."

His stomach sank a little when Frodo called after him, "If you see Eldarion along the way tell him to hurry!" But Sam, determined not to frighten anyone until there was cause for it, managed to maintain his brave face all the way out the door until he was facing the crowd of guards on the other side of it.

The Men looked surprised to see him standing before them. "Yes, Master Gamgee?" the guard Beren asked. He looked deathly tired and felt that way twice as much but still he stayed on, reluctant to trust the well being of the royal family entirely to those who were less experienced than he. "How may we help you?"

"Eldarion left with a guard to get some toy out of his bedchamber," replied Sam, looking meaningfully down the corridor that led to the bedchamber in question. "That was a little while ago and he isn't back yet. It's probably nothing, but I for one would feel better knowing what's keeping him. Well, I'd feel better knowing that and then dragging him back here where it's safe."

"I told that guard to bring him to his bedchamber and then straight back," groused Beren unhappily as he reflexively cracked his knuckles. "I don't like…when my orders aren't obeyed, especially when they're so important. If you don't mind, Master Gamgee, I'd like to come with you."

"I wasn't too keen on going alone anyway," agreed Sam instantly. He nodded at Beren, whom he already respected.

"We will be back in a few moments," Beren told his second-in-command evenly. The look in his eyes told the other Man that what he was saying was extremely important. "Not even three minutes, for I don't think that anyone cares if the prince has found his toy or not. If we aren't here by then, well…make sure that more than two go off to find us."

"Yes sir," said the other guard tightly.

It wasn't a long walk to Eldarion's bedchamber but to Sam and Beren it seemed to cover the distance from Minas Tirith to the Shire. "I'm probably overreacting," said Sam conversationally as his pace quickened and his strides grew longer in his marching. "I do that sometimes."

"As do I," said Beren, loosely placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. "And I'm terribly stringent when it comes to the rules. That being said, any guard who stands watch over the royal – oh!"

Both hobbit and Man stopped short, halted by surprise and frozen by fear, at the sight that greeted them outside of Eldarion's bedchamber. The door was wide open and broken a bit on the edges, as if someone had pushed it open with so much force that it had slammed against the corridor wall. There was a bit of blood on one of its outside edges that made their hearts turn and skip a beat. Then instinct set in; Sam was the first to move, with Beren following closely at his heels. "Eldarion!" cried Sam, racing to the open door. "Answer me, my lad! Eldarion –"

His voice broke off when he looked inside of the bedchamber. There the boy lay on the floor by his bed, unmoving. "Oh, dear Shire!" the hobbit practically screamed. It didn't do much for his nerves when Eldarion didn't even stir at that noise. He lunged forward blindly, almost stumbling over his own feet in the process of getting to his nephew's side. "Come on, my lad! Open your eyes for me, please!"

"My prince!" shouted Beren, his longer legs allowing him to race up from behind the hobbit to reach Eldarion's side first. His face blanched when he got his first good look at his injuries. "By the Valar, how did this happen?"

"What? What is it?" Sam didn't wait for a response; he just threw himself down to the floor on the boy's other side and put his hand on the side of Eldarion's face, intent on turning it toward him gently. Immediately he felt a sticky kind of moisture and he was horrified but not surprised when his hand was red when he drew it back. "No, no, no, no, no. Eldarion? Please open your eyes for me. It's your Uncle Sam, my boy; please let me see those elf eyes of yours."

Beren's hands slipped to Eldarion's neck and he almost wept with relief when he felt the faint beat of a pulse. "He's alive," he reported in a thankful whisper. "He's alive. It looks as if he was just knocked out."

"_Just_ knocked out?" repeated Sam angrily. His respect for the guard didn't go so far that he would excuse him for being blasé about all of this! "Little boys who go to their bedchambers with an armed guard don't _just_ get knocked out! Don't you dare start acting like any of this is normal or so help me I'll have you. Where is that guard anyway? Why wasn't he doing his job like he was supposed to?"

The Man had been so focused on determining Eldarion's condition that he'd failed to note at first that the guard wasn't present. "I don't know –"

"_Who goes there? Get away from him now!"_

The almost bloodthirsty yell that came from the doorway made both Sam and Beren jump. They turned to see Eldarion's assigned guard, red-faced, panting for breath, hair damp with sweat, and a line of blood on his right temple. "It's you," the newcomer noted with obvious relief. "Thank the Valar."

"I wouldn't be doing that just yet," Beren told him with understated fury. "Where in Middle-earth were you when this happened and why did you, in your right mind, leave our prince alone and defenseless in a chamber with the door standing wide open?"

"It was open?" inquired the guard, looking shocked. "Damn! I must have slammed it so hard that it bounced back. I would have never left Prince Eldarion had I realized that the door was open –"

"And what did you think that you were doing, leaving him at all in the first place?" demanded an enraged Sam. He was really starting to agree with Pippin that the guards of the citadel were incompetent to a dangerous degree. "You know very well that there's some kind of madman running around here –"

"I do!" the guard broke in. "Better than anyone right now, I would imagine; since I was just pursuing him."

Beren's ears perked up. "You _saw_ him?" he asked eagerly. Surely even King Elessar and Prince Legolas would forgive his colleague for leaving their son unattended if it had led to the capture of the stalker! "Where is he now?"

"I don't know," answered the guard forlornly. "It was – I don't know if I could properly explain it. You see, I barely had the chance to recover from him hitting me in the head with the door –"

"You let him get close enough to the door that he was able to open it?" interrupted Sam.

"No!" said the guard. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning. Prince Eldarion asked to be left alone while he looked for his toy and since I'd checked out the bedchamber and found nothing I agreed. Well, I wasn't out there for more than a minute before I heard a big thud. I turned to grab the doorknob just as the door came flying open. It caught me in the head; that's why I wasn't able to catch him when he ran by me –"

"He was _in the bedchamber_?" Sam was so outraged that he couldn't see straight. "I thought that you checked everything out! Are you that stupid?"

"I hope for your sake," said Beren in a calmer voice that was even more frightening because of the threatening undertones, "that you at least saw which way he went out and informed the proper guards, who are in pursuit of him right now."

The guard paled visibly. "That's just it," he said quietly. "I should have caught him. I chased him all the way to the servants' corridor that leads down to the kitchens. You know how that's a straight shot once you get around the corner! I wasn't that far behind him! But once I got around the corner he'd vanished into thin air; the guards on the other side didn't even know that there were people in the corridor until I opened the door looking for him. He's like a ghost, sir, Master Gamgee; he was just – gone."

Sam's hands were shaking with anger and fright. "Now's not the time for any ridiculous ghost stories," he snapped in a disgusted voice. "Don't think that you can get away with letting Eldarion get hurt because you weren't thorough enough. The king and prince will hear about this, mark my words, and they won't be happy."

Beren waved his hand to cut off any retort that the guard might have had in him. "Silence," he ordered curtly. "You have failed Prince Eldarion and the rest of the royal family. Now redeem yourself as much as you might be able to: fetch the lords Elladan and Elrohir and then run to the royal bedchamber to inform the other guards and those who are minding the princesses about what has happened here. I'd sent you to King Elessar and Prince Legolas too but I don't want to make them face the person who couldn't take care of their son. Now get out of my sight."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Aragorn couldn't help noticing what Legolas was doing with his hands as the couple walked back to the royal quarters after finally leaving the meeting hall. The elf was rubbing his thumbs against the tips of his fingers; a nervous habit that he'd picked up during the War. He'd started doing that after he'd forfeited his immortality after Helm's Deep, feeling the new coolness in his fingers and wondering what Aragorn would do when he found out. Since then he seemed to repeat the gesture during times when he could feel that something wasn't right. Unfortunately, the Man had been seeing it a lot lately. "What is it?" Aragorn wondered.

"Hmmmm?" asked Legolas distractedly.

Aragorn tenderly took his hand and raised it to his lips. "You're doing it again," he said warmly, kissing the hand softly. "I was just wondering what you feel is wrong."

"I don't know," answered Legolas hesitantly. "I've had this sense of unease for a couple of weeks, but now it's…." He closed his eyes and started rubbing his thumb against his fingers with his free hand. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"No, it isn't," Aragorn told him firmly. "Do you know what Mithrandir used to tell me? He always used to tell me that you had a foresight that even you didn't understand. Your instincts have served us well before in the past and I trust them fully. If there is something that you don't feel is right then I would have you tell me about it."

Legolas exhaled loudly. "I want to see Eldarion," he said, resolute and anxious. "I want my son and I want him now. I can – usually I can feel the children enough to know if they're all right or not but right now it feels like he is just beyond my sight. I think…I think that I would feel a lot better if I could see him."

"Eldarion?" asked Aragorn. "Can you feel if anything's wrong with the girls too?"

"They seem to be all right," replied Legolas slowly. He concentrated on reaching his mind out to all of his children, feeling a bit like a mother cat who touched her nose to those of her kittens' to make sure that they were all accounted for. "Yes, the girls are fine; I can feel them. But I cannot feel Eldarion – not that I feel he's in danger; I _can't_ feel him at all. It's as if a darkness is hiding him from my sight."

"Well, we're almost back to our chambers now," Aragorn tried to assure him, though he was disquieted by the thought of some type of shadow concealing their son from them. He looked at the guards who were standing watch at the doors that led to the private royal quarters as the approached. "Have you heard of anything out of the ordinary going on in here this morning?"

"No, King Elessar," one of them told him dutifully as he opened the door for them to pass through. "Word has not reached us about anything of the sort. Good day, Prince Legolas."

The elf smiled with his mouth but not with his eyes. "And to you as well," he said, quietly polite. He almost winced when the doors slammed shut behind him. Why was he letting this feeling get to him anyway? Even if there was something to what he was feeling about Eldarion turned out to be true – and he didn't even want to entertain the notion that it was – he still didn't need to let every little noise make him flinch. "I want my son," he whispered to himself.

Aragorn heard his voice even though he didn't hear what he'd said. Comfortingly he put his arm around his husband and sighed as they almost simultaneously leaned into each other. "We –"

Before he could complete his sentence, however, something flew down the corridor at such speed that it almost knocked them over when it collided with them. "Out of the way!" shrieked the thing, almost hysterical.

Legolas recognized the voice and grabbed its owner's shoulders. "Merry?" he asked with growing dread. "What are you doing out here?"

It took a moment for the frantic hobbit to realize that he'd just run into the two people that he was trying to find. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," he babbled, not really knowing who he was thanking but feeling grateful enough to vocalize the sentiments nonetheless. "I had to find you! I was so wrong, so wrong – thank the Shire that Sam wouldn't listen to me or else poor Eldarion –"

"Eldarion?" repeated Aragorn sharply. "What about Eldarion? Did something happen to him?"

"He wanted to show Frodo some toy of his that was in his bedchamber," said Merry, almost choking on his guilt. "No one was too inclined to let him go, but he and Frodo looked so happy at the idea of playing that we let him go – as long as he took a guard with him. You need new guards, Aragorn; you need competent ones."

"What happened?" demanded Legolas.

"Sam got worried when he didn't come back right away," said Merry. "I thought that it was nothing but it was – it was! He went with Beren to Eldarion's bedchamber and found him unconscious and – and bleeding, with the guard gone supposedly chasing after the stalker who's really a ghost or some other nonsense –"

Legolas' stomach twisted. "Where's Eldarion?" he cried a little louder than he would have liked to. It wasn't Merry's fault, after all, and the hobbit looked upset enough without having one of his friends yelling at him too. But all Legolas could care about at the moment was getting to his son as soon as possible. "Is he all right? What happened?"

"I don't know," replied Merry miserably. "That idiot of a guard of his came running to your bedchamber with the news of what happened. He'd already gone to see Elladan and Elrohir so I assume that they're with Eldarion now; Pippin went to Eldarion's bedchamber right away while our wives stayed with the children but I was sent to find you. Please," his voice cracked, "let's get there as soon as may be."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Pain was the first thing that Eldarion registered when he started to come out of the blackness that had been surrounding him. Sharp pain, like nothing he'd ever felt before, not even when he'd fallen down that short flight of stairs in a clumsy moment a few years back or when he spied Findowyn smiling at some idiot young soldier last summer. He moaned quietly (though it rang excruciatingly through his skull) and wondered why he'd bothered coming out of that black cocoon where he couldn't feel anything.

"Eldarion?" a voice broke though the darkness. It was a bit louder than his moan but it didn't hurt to hear it. "My Little Acorn; please come back to me."

It was his ada. Eldarion wanted to answer him but still almost didn't, as he figured that his ada of all people would understand why he wasn't. Surely Legolas wouldn't want him to be in pain? _'He was in pain for you,'_ a voice in his head reminded him. _'Remember what he told you about when you were born? He wasn't in pain where he was but he decided to follow you even though it hurt him. Aren't you going to the same for him?'_

"We're in it together," the boy mumbled.

"Eldarion?" Legolas' heart leapt when he heard his son mumble something. What he was saying didn't quite make sense but that didn't matter to him at the moment – just hearing the sweet sound of his son's voice was enough. "Look at me, ion nin. Your papa and I are here now and we're not going to let anything happen to you."

The boy opened his eyes – Elbereth, did the sun need to shine _that _brightly right now? – and found himself looking into his ada's eyes. He was frightened by all the emotions that he saw in there. "Don't be sad, Ada," he whispered, trying not to give his head any more reasons to pound. "I came back, just like you did. You're looking out for me."

"As you looked out for me," said Legolas, understanding. "That's because we're in this together. I'm so sorry, my Little Acorn."

"For what?" asked Eldarion, confused. He tried to lift his head and immediately regretted it. "Owwww…."

"Lie still, my son," urged another soothing, familiar voice – his papa. His papa was there; Eldarion could see the Man's worried face hovering over him, close to Legolas'. "Your uncles are going to check you over right now to make sure that you're going to be all right."

Two more faces, identical this time, appeared over him. "Uncle Elladan? Uncle Elrohir?" wondered Eldarion aloud. "What happened? Why do I need you to look me over?"

"You were hurt, Eldarion," said Elrohir in an impossibly calm voice. Eldarion didn't know that his uncle was sounding like his grandfather Elrond right then; but Aragorn did and the Man was comforted by that. "Now, Elladan and I are going to look at your head; while we do that we want you to tell us the last thing that you remember."

Eldarion shuddered happily as the comforting hands soothed his aching head. "I remember…." His voice trailed off as he struggled to think. "I told Frodo about my knife and he wanted to see it. We…we had to beg Uncle Sam to let me go get it but he finally agreed. A guard came – came with him but I didn't want him to know where I hid it so I asked him to leave after he checked the bedchamber over. I was reaching under my bed to get it when, when –"

His voice broke when he remembered. "When I heard someone coming from behind me."

Legolas felt his heart break at the sight of his son's frightened tears. He leaned over at once to kiss them away but they continued to fall. "Someone was in here with you?" he wondered as horrible images danced around in his mind. "How –"

"I don't know," sobbed Eldarion. "But he had my knife and he said something about it being dangerous in the right and wrong hands. He – he was threatening me and I got so mad about it that I turned around to yell at him. Then there was pain, red, and then dark. That's when I stop remembering."

"Did you see him?" asked Aragorn. He felt a tightness in his chest when the boy nodded ever so slightly. "Tell us what he looked like and we'll make sure that he never hurts anyone again."

"I don't know what he looks like," replied Eldarion, clearly upset to the brink of hysteria. Aragorn immediately regretted his question as he watched his husband lay down next to their son in an attempt to comfort him. "He was wearing a cloak – _a cloak_. Oh, I remember, I remember. This is all my fault, Papa! What happened to Laurelin, everything is all my fault!"

"Shhh, my son," begged Aragorn. "Nothing is your fault."

"Yes it is," insisted Eldarion with surprising fierceness. "I saw him before all of these horrible things started happening, on the day that I made you two tell me about when I was born. I was so upset about that stuff that I didn't tell you about him and then I forgot altogether. Stupid, stupid Eldarion!"

Legolas started in alarm and grasped Eldarion's wrists and the boy began trying to hit himself in the head. An equally distressed Aragorn firmly grabbed his shoulders to pin him to the ground to stop him from hurting himself while Elladan broke records in getting the proper herbs out from his pack. A few seconds after he stuck a few under his nephew's tongue Eldarion started to relax. "I think that concludes the questioning for now," said Elrohir sternly. "Elladan and I need to be with our patient now. Don't take this the wrong way – but get out."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

A little less than an hour later a sleeping Eldarion was settled into his cot in his parents' bedchamber while they and his uncles were in the doorway, whispering. "We haven't found any signs of permanent damage," reported Elladan. "He should pull through just fine."

"But the way he reacted when he realized when he remembered seeing a cloaked person before…" Aragorn's voice faded as he swallowed to get rid of the hard lump that formed in his throat.

"The blow to the head has unbalanced him a bit," Elrohir informed them. "He's going to have trouble controlling his emotions for awhile – several days, a few weeks, however long. It would probably be best if you make sure that he gets a lot of bed rest until he's himself again. But there's nothing more that we can do here right now; it's best just to let him get some rest."

Aragorn nodded and showed his brothers to the door while Legolas stayed behind, resolved not to leave his son's side unless the most absolute need required him too. The Man almost didn't look out as the twins left, not wanting to look at the guards who continued to fail his family so completely, but did just that when a familiar voice called out to him.

"Your majesty!" It was the advisor Eärnil, with Tanondor at his side. They hurried up to him as soon as they that he'd heard them. "Word has reached us about what happened to Prince Eldarion."

"I will brief the Council later," said Aragorn distractedly. "My son needs me now."

"Wait!" begged Tanondor. "I realize that this is a terrible time for this but we must speak to you – privately. It concerns the matter of the stalker."

Hesitating momentarily, Aragorn reluctantly allowed them to enter the antechamber. "Make this quick," he ordered.

"I think I might know who's behind all of these attacks," said Tanondor.

That got Aragorn's attention. "You know something?" he demanded furiously. "And you didn't say anything? That monster attacked my son with a knife today!"

"I know, and I will never stop regretting my silence," said Tanondor, hanging his head. "But I had no proof; and I did not know how to present the theory that" – he lowered his voice to a whisper –"that your own guards might be behind all of this mess. In light of what's happened, however, I cannot wait for evidence to fall into my lap anymore. I just thank the Valar that I spoke to Eärnil about this, for he has helped me come up with a plan that will help us find out for certain if all of them can be trusted."

Aragorn almost didn't believe it; he almost told them to stop wasting his time and go away, but something made him hesitate. It _was_ the guards who continued not to catch this stalker no matter how many times he got close to the royal family. And today, it was a guard that left his son unconscious after failing to find an adult hiding in the boy's bedchamber, and then failed to catch the perpetrator, excusing himself by saying that he just vanished. _'No stone unturned,'_ he reminded himself.

"All right," the king said aloud. "Tell me more."

To be continued…


	16. A burning need for answers

"I hate this," groaned Legolas miserably.

Several days – over a week, in fact – had passed since Eldarion was attacked in his bedchamber and this was the first time since then that Legolas had been out of calling distance from him for more than five minutes. The only things that were able to finally tear him from his son's side were Elladan and Elrohir's emphatic reassurances that Eldarion was _fine_ and his promise to Aragorn that once that was the case they would implement Lord Tanondor and Lord Eärnil's plan to find out if any of the guards were in league with the stalker. Legolas still remembered with perfect detail how cold his skin got when his husband recounted the two advisors' suspicions to him after they'd left the royal chambers on the day of the attack. It felt hideously right that whoever was threatening his family was someone so close, but there was still something about this that seemed so wrong…

Legolas propped his elbows up on the Council meeting hall table, resting his forehead in his palms as he peered over at his pacing husband. "This isn't right," he stressed, feeling frustrated and helpless – two emotions that had been fairly unfamiliar previous to the whole mess and now had become unsettlingly common. "There are absolutely no words to describe how much I utterly loathe this situation."

"No one is all that crazy about it," replied Aragorn, forcing himself to stop pacing. Giving a loud and weary sigh, he sat down heavily next to Legolas and turned to face him. A new wave of guilt washed over him when he saw the tiredness that was in his beloved's eyes. After all of these years he still couldn't seem to find a way to make the city a place where Legolas and their children could safely enjoy their lives! "I'm sorry –"

"Don't." Legolas grabbed Aragorn's face with both hands and pulled it close enough for him to plant a tender kiss on his lips. "None of this is any more your fault than it is mine. This is our home, our people, our _children_ who are under threat and I claim just as much responsibility for them as you do."

Aragorn caressed the elf's cheek and let his hand slide back to smooth his long blonde hair. "This will be over soon, beloved," he vowed. "Lord Tanondor is right – there's something about all of this that isn't adding up quite right when it comes to the stalker and the guards' inability to capture him no matter how close he comes; they're highly trained, after all, and supposedly devoted to protecting us no matter what. We must find out if all of them are trustworthy or not – our children's well being are at stake! If all goes as planned, we'll have a better idea by tonight as to whether or not we've placed our faith in the wrong people."

"I understand why this is very important," said Legolas. He shook his head, searching for the right words to explain the instincts that were plaguing him. "But there's something…off about what's been going on. Oh Aragorn, I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that somehow we're not seeing some of the most important pieces of this puzzle! I don't want to put our family through this plan for no good reason if that's the case."

"I think that making sure that all of the people we trust to protect them aren't in fact out to do them harm is an _exceedingly_ good reason," reiterated Aragorn as he grabbed Legolas' hand and started massaging one of the elf's knuckles with his thumb. "Besides, none of them will be in any physical danger as long as we stick to the plan. Lord Tanondor and Lord Eärnil have thought out every last detail rather impressively."

The lords' plan, conjured up even before Eldarion's attack and tweaked to as close to perfection as they could get in the days since, was simple enough on the surface: the guards' loyalties needed to be tested, so why not do just that? Aragorn and Legolas would act secretive for two days before calling the guards before them to a private meeting right after the dinner meal. There they would apprise the guards of a "plan" that was already in progress: Man and elf would claim that they'd arranged for their children to be secreted away to Gimli's house in the city, as it was clear that the citadel was no longer a safe place for them to be. When the guards asked why they were kept out of the loop until the last minute, the couple would say that they were trying to minimize the threat of accidental leaks as they'd started to suspect that some people, namely a few members of the Council, might not be as loyal as they were presenting themselves to be.

This covered all of what they needed for the plan to work: since the guards wouldn't be informed until the last minute and wouldn't be dismissed from the citadel afterwards there would be less of a risk that one of them could claim that something accidentally slipped and it wasn't really their fault. It also gave them what whoever might be behind this thought was the perfect cover – the king, they would believe, already suspected Council members.

After the meeting, all that would be left to do was waiting; if anything happened at Gimli's house they would have enough proof to openly accuse some of the guards of treason and start pinning down who it was that was behind the stalking.

Of course, neither the children, Gimli, nor Thranduil (who'd been staying at the dwarf's house while this threat hung over his family) would actually be in any danger that night. Aragorn and Legolas had taken Gimli and Thranduil into their confidence immediately after the Man had explained the plan to his husband and together they'd devised a way to make the second part of it feasible if the first part proved that there were traitors in their midst. Doing their part, Thranduil and Gimli had every day traveled outside of the city walls during one guard shift and coming back during another; coming and going at all hours so that the guards would get used to assuming that they were back in the city if someone else said so even when they hadn't seen them come back.

They'd left that morning and were now waiting five miles away from the city in the direction of Ithilien but the guards who'd cared in inquire would be told that they had returned already. Aragorn hoped that none of the guards asked about it; he'd almost been driven insane to have to take so long in plotting and carrying out so many details when the people that he loved was under threat and he wasn't sure that he could keep all of those emotions off of his face should he have to deal with that question. Thank the Valar that all of that meticulous work was about to pay off!

Aragorn might have been relieved and antsy now that the big day had finally arrived but the whole situation made Legolas frightfully uneasy, and even the knowledge that Eldarion, Laurelin, Gilraen, and Meren would really be staying in the citadel, hidden away under the protection of their well-armed uncles Elladan and Elrohir, didn't make that feeling go away. "I don't think that Eldarion has fully recovered yet," he argued stubbornly, fierce and pleading at the same time.

"My brothers have –"

"I don't care what Elladan and Elrohir say," countered Legolas. "_They_ aren't his father. They didn't carry him for eight difficult months – I did and I say that it will not safe for him or anyone else if he goes through this ordeal with his emotions still somewhat out of control."

"He's _fine_," stressed Aragorn, knowing better than to suggest that perhaps it wasn't Eldarion whose emotions were out of control. "Neither he nor the girls will be in any jeopardy."

"Don't talk to me in that tone," warned Legolas. "Though I suppose I shouldn't blame you; I mean, who am I but a centuries-old elf with plenty of battle experience and political knowledge? I don't even understand the children all that well – they were only a part of my _body_ for the better part of a year. You told me that you trusted my instincts; that I have a foresight that even I haven't fully realized yet!"

He would have jumped up and walked pointedly away had Aragorn not suddenly grabbed his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "I would _never_ dismiss you or your suspicions like that," said the Man firmly. "Nor would I bring our children into this so lightly. Please, Legolas; do you truly believe that I would be going along with this if I thought for even one second that our children could end up hurt as a result?"

"No," conceded Legolas. His anger drained, forcing him to face the emotion that he was using all of that rage to ignore: fear. "But – but most if not all of those guards, they…watched the children grow up. They put up with Laurelin when she went through that stage of always wanting to sing to them; showed Eldarion their weapons whenever he was curious; they rejoiced more than anyone outside of our family when we found out that I was carrying twins because they already loved our first two so much. Now we think…"

He paused and swallowed. "I'm sorry, Aragorn," he whispered. "Just considering that just one of them might have betrayed us after all of that – it makes me want to scream and weep; it truly does."

Aragorn pulled his husband into an embrace and was shocked to find Legolas willing to just let him hold him. Usually the elf insisted that he wrap his arms around Aragorn every time the Man did the same but now Legolas slumped against him as if all of his strength had been temporarily drained. The plan was in motion now and Aragorn knew that they shouldn't halt it; but at the same time he realized that if his normally unflappable husband was reacting so strongly against the notion of the guards' guilt that there was probably more to the story than what they were seeing. "All of this will probably amount to nothing," the Man tried to reassure him.

"What if it's not?" asked Legolas. He was amazed when he felt a tear trickle down his cheek and hastily wiped it away. "Elbereth, what's wrong with me? There was a time that I could look into the eyes of the fiercest orc and not flinch and now a stressful situation is wringing tears. This is like pregnancy-strong emotions, only without the nice payoff in the end."

"You're but a person, just like everyone else," said Aragorn warmly. "You're allowed your bouts of stress; and I meant what I said: this has probably been blown out of proportion. It might be nothing more than a run of bad luck, an exceptionally sneaky stalker, and an unfortunate misunderstanding – but we _must_ know for certain. Come, Legolas," he added, kissing both of the elf's eyelids. "We need to pull ourselves together; the guards will be here at any moment."

Legolas looked at him bleakly. "I can hear their footsteps now," he murmured. Indeed, soon Aragorn heard the noise of several footfalls hurrying down the corridor toward the meeting hall. When they were almost at the door the elf pulled himself to his feet and walked over, opening it before anyone had the chance to knock. "Enter, good guards, and hurry!"

"Thank you, my prince," said Beren, the leader of the crowd, politely as his Men filtered into the room around him. He took a moment to give Legolas a small, supportive smile before entering himself.

Aragorn eyed them all as they come in and was disturbed by the suspicious way that he was regarding them. Now when he looked at Beren he couldn't see the kindly, loyal guard who could always be relied on through the shadow of threats. When he looked on Mardil the image of the red-faced young Man who'd accidentally seen his husband naked thirteen years prior gave way to something more sinister as he wondered if guard had been in on the stalker plot, and if he was had it been going on since that awkward day. Who _were_ these Men – any of these Men – anyway? Why had he entrusted them with the most important people in his life? Had he really been so blind that he couldn't see such a threat so close to them all?

"I'm glad that you all could come," he said aloud, fighting to keep his mistrust out of his tone. "I'm sure that many of you have some questions concerning what's been going on for the last couple of days."

"That's true," spoke up one of the guards who was usually assigned to protecting Eldarion. "Forgive my boldness, but what _has_ been going on? First there are days in which we hear nothing about the progress being made in finding the stalker; then today – today! This afternoon I was keeping watch over Prince Eldarion, Lady Findowyn, and the two oldest Gamgee children when the Lords Elrohir and Elladan came with your orders to leave the children in their care and go at once to the training grounds. Then to see _all_ of the guards at the grounds –"

"What my colleague is trying to say, your majesties," interrupted Beren in a diplomatic but caring tone before the guard could say anything that might be interpreted as disrespectful in his current state of upset, "is that we've been terribly anxious for awhile, especially since this afternoon. While we would never question your orders, having all of us attend an hours-long training session obviously left you and your family unguarded. Why, we haven't even seen the children since the command came down. I think I speak for us all when I say that we would all feel better if we knew that they were well and safe."

"They are, for the time being," announced Aragorn grimly, discreetly assessing each one of their faces for a hint that someone was hiding something. "I will not apologize for all of the secrecy, as it was unfortunate but necessary. Now I need all of you to listen closely because what I'm about to say is of the greatest importance; and it cannot leave this room, not yet."

Legolas didn't need sharp ears to hear the little intakes of breath coming from members of the crowd. Were they of genuine concern for his children or worry that someone might have been caught? His instincts – or was that foolish hope? – and reason warred within him as his husband continued: "The prince and princesses are in danger."

"Danger?" repeated Beren with muted horror. "How?"

"It is difficult to put into words," spoke up Legolas solemnly, "but the reasons for it might be closer than anyone of us dared to imagine."

Some of the guards exchanged looks; Aragorn tried to take a mental note of who all of them were and all the different interpretations of the expressions might mean. "What do you mean, Prince Legolas?" one of them asked. When it appeared that Legolas was reluctant to say anything more, he turned to Aragorn. "King Elessar?"

"I fear that the stalker might be getting assistance from people who are privy to the secret details of my family's movement and what's been going on in the investigation," Aragorn told them. He was silent for a moment as he let that sink in; and if any of them were guilty of betrayal let them sweat for a second or two! "There are members of the Advisors' Council that I suspect may be helping the stalker."

Beren's eyes flashed. "If that's true than we won't let them get away with it," he vowed with a flair of his nostrils. "What do you need us to do? Just give us an order and it will be done."

"We already have a plan in motion," replied Aragorn, surveying their faces carefully. He was glad that the nature of their plan made it so that he could almost tell them the truth – he'd always hated lying and often found it difficult to keep his story straight when he was this agitated unless it had an element of truth to it. "Lord Gimli and King Thranduil have offered to watch over the children at the lord's house until we can figure out who can be trusted."

"Of course," breathed one of the guards. "And we will be there to escort them there safely."

"They're already there," Aragorn informed them. "We wanted to get them to the house without too many people noticing. That's why we concocted the whole training-session scenario: we couldn't have a lot of guards hovering around without being seen; and yet it would have been too suspicious if we had you stand down for no apparent reason."

"We could have been discreet," said Mardil almost defensively. "We will show you that; no one will see us when we guard Lord Gimli's house tonight."

"No, they won't," agreed Aragorn, "because you'll do no such thing. My father-in-law, friend, and the fact that their location is a secret will keep the prince and the princesses safe for now. Besides, we have a more important task for you: stay here and pretend that nothing has changed – the Council has many eyes and ears within the citadel. We need you to use that discretion of yours to focus on finding any unusual activities going on in the royal quarters."

The Man put his hand on Legolas' (who'd gone strangely quiet again) back and felt a pang of regret at the tension that he felt there. "This is about the well being of our _children_," he stressed to the guards, even though it was just as much for Legolas' benefit than it was for them. "You need to do what we've already planned so that we can ensure their safety." Legolas looked up at him with grim determination and Aragorn felt better. "That is it, my loyal guards' now can you obey these commands to the letter?"

A chorus of affirmative murmurs buzzed through the crowd. "Good," declared Aragorn. "Then you are dismissed to carry them out – with my thanks," he added hastily as he usually did, not wanting to do anything to arouse their suspicions.

Legolas bit his lower lip as the guards left. "I don't like this," he said in a quiet voice after they were all gone and the door had been shut behind them. His stomach twinged and he wrapped his arms around it. "This isn't right. Aragorn –"

"We _must_ find out," interrupted Aragorn gently, pulling the elf into another comforting embrace.

"I just hope that we're not making a terrible mistake," said Legolas in a far-away voice as if he was trying to see the future. "I can feel it, my love – everything depends on what happens tonight. If we've judged this wrongly in any way I fear that we will lose our children. They will fall out of our sights, Aragorn, and I'm afraid that if that happens we will never see them again."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Very few people knew, but in the back of the royal quarters sat a short row of rooms. They were too large to be called closets yet too small to be serviceable bedchambers and out-of-the way of the guards' normal patrol to be used for much of anything else. Usually they were used for storage, but on that night one of them had another purpose: to serve as the cramped but adequate hiding place for Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, Gilraen, and their two minders. Late into the night as Elrohir and Elladan kept diligent watch, the two eldest children slept on small cots in the corners while the babies nestled down into baskets.

"I believe that in spite of everything this may be the easiest baby-sitting duty that we've ever had," observed Elladan wryly. "At least they're being quiet; I don't think that even Estel was as well behaved as they are right now."

"Hush," admonished Elrohir. "Don't do or say anything that might make them wake up! I'm surprised that they dropped off as quickly as they did; let's not, as I've heard some of the farmers on the outskirts of the city say, look a gift horse in the mouth."

"I for one am not surprised at all," countered Elladan with no malice. "The poor things must have been exhausted! Estel's told me that Laurelin hasn't been sleeping well lately and Eldarion's been so restless. I can't imagine how difficult it's been for them to go through all of this for – dear Elbereth, has it been a month?"

"Not quite, but close," Elrohir told him wearily. He sighed and glanced over at a small, empty pitcher that was sitting on the floor next to their nephew's cot. "Maybe we should think about getting some more water. Our dear little niece and nephew drank down what Lord Eärnil and Lord Tanondor brought fairly quickly. They might want more when they wake up and I know that I wouldn't mind a drink myself."

"Get some if you want," said Elladan blithely, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "I won't be moved from this spot because _you're_ thirsty."

Shaking his head at his twin's laziness but not willing to dignify it with a verbal response, Elrohir got up and grabbed the pitcher in one smooth, dramatic motion. He then marched to the door and almost hit an incoming Aragorn and Legolas in the process.

"Good to see you too," called the Man when his brother just waved the empty container and continued on his way.

"Any news?" wondered Elladan as the pair entered the room and closed the door behind them.

"Nothing as of yet," replied Aragorn, sounding much older than his years. "Lord Tanondor and Lord Eärnil were scheduled to head down to Gimli's house some fifteen minutes ago, but we have some time before we need to slip outside and meet them. All's been quiet on their end too, though. That's a good sign, right? No news is good news?"

"Sometimes," said Elladan in a noncommittal tone. "I know that there have been times that you yourself haven't believed that."

While the brothers talked, Legolas had made his way over to check on all of his children. "No news," he repeated with a shiver as he brushed a strand of hair away from Laurelin's nose. "Maybe we should go down there ourselves, Aragorn; I have a horrible feeling that something's wrong."

"Like what?" asked the Man.

"I don't know," replied Legolas restlessly. "I wish that I had my bow with me."

"My love –" Aragorn began, a bit confused by his husband's uncharacteristic behavior. He cut himself off, though, when both Legolas and his brother suddenly tensed and straightened up. "What is it?" he hissed urgently.

"Footsteps," whispered Legolas, reaching down to finger his white knives that were concealed under his tunic. He'd stopped carrying them with him years ago when he and Aragorn stopped traveling out of the city to do battle with orcs on a regular basis, but that night it seemed only fitting to have them at his disposal once more. "They're coming this way at a great pace."

A second later Aragorn could hear them too – two of them, in fact, and something that sounded like a fluttering echo. Another breath later and the door burst open; a frantic-looking Elrohir rushed in, flanked by the advisors Tanondor and Eärnil. "What's wrong?" wondered Aragorn, staring in amazement at his brother. "I heard your footsteps, Elrohir! Something's definitely wrong."

"It burns!" cried a horrified Elrohir. "I saw it from the window – it burns!"

"What burns?" demanded Aragorn, though he feared that he already knew the answer.

Eärnil stepped forward. "Lord Gimli's house," he reported breathlessly. "We went out to check on it and it was ablaze."

"Did you notice if any of the guards were lingering around there?" demanded Elladan.

"News spread through the citadel rather quickly," answered Eärnil. "Some of them were already down there and we passed others on the way; it's impossible to tell right now who was in on the conspiracy and who just went down to help. But now we know and alas that we were right! There is no excuse for this kind of treachery!"

"King Elessar, Prince Legolas," spoke up Tanondor tersely. "I believe that we know have sufficient proof that at least one of the guards cannot be trusted. May I suggest that we take this opportunity to carry out the rest of the plan while most of the city is distracted by the fire?"

Legolas tensed immediately. He loathed with all of his being the second part of the plan, for it called for the unthinkable: separation from his children for an indefinite amount of time. That's why Thranduil and Gimli were waiting five miles outside of the city; it had been decided that in the event that the guards failed the test Eärnil and Tanondor – the least inconspicuous of them all, as they weren't royalty or a different species – would smuggle the prince and princesses to them. From there the children would accompany their grandfathers to Ithilien for safe keeping while the advisors headed back to Minas Tirith to assist in the investigation. That would give Aragorn and Legolas some assurance of their safety while they made their way through the guards' interrogations – a process that could very well take days…weeks, even. Legolas could barely stand to think about it, let alone see it happen.

"My prince," said Tanondor, sensing his hesitation, "I know that this grieves you and I'm truly sorry, but it's become necessary. I'm afraid that the prince and princesses cannot remain safe _and_ stay in the city at the same time."

"All right," Legolas relented reluctantly. He knew that he couldn't risk his children's safety just because he hated the idea of being parted from them. "I guess – we should wake them up."

"No," said Aragorn gently as his own heart twisted. "Let them sleep. They deserve to have a few more hours of peace before having to deal with this mess again. We can carry them out to the cart."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Legolas felt like crying out in agony as he walked down the corridor to his son's bedchamber. He and Aragorn had seen Tanondor and Eärnil off after tucking the four sleeping children under some blankets; watching the cart get smaller and smaller until it passed down the levels of the city where walls blocked it from his sight was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. Knowing that they had to leave for their safety didn't make it easier to let them go. Now Aragorn was calling for all of the guards to meet them in the royal quarters; Legolas could have been there too, but his husband, seeing how torn up he was, insisted on him getting a moment to himself before facing the person or people responsible for the stalking. The elf had agreed only because he wanted to gather up his drained energy to be able to deal with whoever made this situation necessary with all of his strength.

His thoughts turned melancholy when he stepped in front of Eldarion's door. _'My children are gone and all I can do to be in their presence again is to stand among their things,' _he thought as he turned the knob and walked inside. _'I wonder if Ada did anything like this when I went off on the Quest. Oh, why is it that since I became a father I've had the urge to apologize to my own father about everything that I put him through?'_

It almost made him laugh at the irony – almost. Instead he sighed and ran his hand over the bedspread to smooth a nonexistent wrinkle. _'My son should be –'_

A sudden noise almost made him gasp out loud. Was it his imagination or was something _moving around_ in Eldarion's wardrobe? Legolas narrowed his eyes dangerously as he recalled his son's story about where his attacker came out of. He was sick and tired of the people he loved being in constant danger and he was going to get to the bottom of this now!

Pulling out one of his knives he walked swiftly and silently to the wardrobe door, took one deep breath, and yanked it open. What he encountered there was a face that he recognized all too well looking back at him, startled. "You!" growled Legolas. He smoothly grabbed the person by the collar and brought his knife to the exposed throat. "You have fifteen seconds to explain why you're in my son's wardrobe and how you got in here in the first place. _Go_."

To be continued…


	17. Pieces fall where they may

_A/N: Yes, I am that mean not to pick up directly where I left off with Legolas; but some things were going on while Aragorn and Legolas were getting the children out of the city that need to be covered before the story can go on…_

It had been a long and mostly sleepless night; like none that Merry, Pippin, and Sam had experienced together since the night that Eldarion was born. Was it to be wondered, though, that they could find no rest? All of the hobbits knew about the suspicion that had been cast upon the guards – they'd been on edge ever since Aragorn and Legolas had brought them into their confidence about the plan that was meant to flush out the traitorous ones. Just thinking that the people who were supposed to be protecting them might actually be plotting against them…. It was unfathomable, a waking nightmare; and there seemed to be nothing that they could do to make the situation better.

That night the three hobbit families had gathered together in the adjoining chambers that was usually occupied by the Gamgees, drawing what comfort and rest they could from each other's company when shots coming from the corridor had let them know that Gimli's house had been set on fire. Immediately Sam, Pippin, Merry, and their wives – thank goodness that the children managed to sleep through the ruckus! – rushed over to the only window in the chambers that faced in that direction and crowded around it, watching in horror as the home of their dear friend burned. It had been a crushing blow; not only did it mean that there were indeed traitors in their midst but also that Eldarion, Laurelin, and the infant twins would have to be spirited out of the city as soon as possible. In fact, knowing that word had undoubtedly reached Aragorn and Legolas' ears, the children's flight from Minas Tirith was probably already happening even as they first laid eyes the flames.

For the first time since the Quest of the Ring Pippin, Merry, and Sam felt very small in more than just stature. Their wives were trying to be understanding but couldn't help feeling frightened; their own children's safety could no longer be guaranteed. They could do nothing about Aragorn's increasing frustration, Legolas' distress and repressed fury, and the general misery that had seized all of their loved ones. Now their dear little nephew and nieces were going to be gone from their home for Valar knows how long and all they could do about it was remain in their chambers like Aragorn and Legolas had requested and wait for news about what was going on to come to them.

Well, remain in the Gamgees' chambers for the most part: Sam, Merry, and Pippin had broken their promise in that respect, but more out of consideration to others than for any other reason. After watching people start to fight the fire Rose, Diamond, and Estella, realizing what difficult times most likely laid ahead, had decided to try to capture what sleep that they could that night. They'd begged their husbands to do the same, even while knowing that it was useless to do so. Not wanting to disturb their families, the three restless hobbits had snuck out, slipping a short way down the corridor to Merry and Estella's bedchamber. There, they resolved, they would keep each other company until they could find something a little more useful to do.

After several minutes Merry and Pippin had suggested playing a game; and had pulled out a checkers board when Sam declined to participate in anything like that at such a troubling time. They were nearing the end of their competition when Sam drifted over to the door to listen for any type of movement that might give him a clue as to what was going on. "You shouldn't eavesdrop," Pippin called over to him while Merry was deciding where he wanted to move one of his remaining few pieces.

"I'm not doing any such thing," retorted Sam.

"Just like you were just tripping up the hedges at Bag End?" chided Pippin, wringing his hands. He wasn't sure what was making him more edgy at the moment, waiting for news or Merry's slowness; he was grateful to have Sam around to keep his mind distracted. "Just remember, the last time you were caught eavesdropping you ended up having to go all the way to the heart of the Mountain of Fire in order to make up for it."

"Well, Mr. Gandalf ain't here to hit me over the head with his staff now," replied Sam. As soon as he spoke the old wizard's name his expression became more sad than worried – though the latter emotion was still very much prominent. "I wish he was; it would be worth getting another headache if only he could be here to set things right. _He _would have been able to figure out who's responsible for this whole stalker nonsense; and his word would have been enough to go on, too – there would have been none of this 'trying to get proof' business. Poor Gimli wouldn't have had to lose his house, and our nephew and nieces could have stayed in the city instead of getting smuggled out of here like some criminals!"

"Who knows?" sighed Merry wearily. "But he still would have punished you for eavesdropping; maybe turned you into something – unnatural."

"I can't imagine a worse punishment than being in this spot right now," lamented Sam; "unless it's compared to what Strider and Mr. Legolas must be going through."

Pippin's empathetic smile gave way to a smug smirk as Merry moved one of his pieces – the last kinged one – right where he wanted it to be. With a flourish the younger hobbit jumped the recently moved checkers and plucked them up to add to his collection. "Three to go," he observed wryly. He gestured to Merry with exaggerated politeness and offered: "Your move."

"I know that," said Merry in a calm voice. He knew that it drove Pippin absolutely insane when he showed no emotion while they played a game; so, of course, he did that as often as he could. "Only fools rush in, Pip. I think it's worth taking my time to figure out what I'm going to do next."

"And you should do just that," replied Pippin, playfully condescending as he surveyed the board. His opponent seemed to have few options that _wouldn't_ lose him more pieces. "Especially since I'm winning and you're losing pieces by the bucket."

"That's a terrible analogy, Pip," noted Merry as he concentrated on the checkerboard.

"That may be," said Pippin in a slight sing-song voice, "but that doesn't change the fact that I've got you on the run."

By the door, Sam jumped suddenly and pressed his ear against the wood. "Shhhh! I think I hear footsteps," he hissed at his friends. His look of anxious anticipation faded into disappointment the next second. "I did, but I guess they weren't coming to tell us anything. Unless – of course! They think that we're still in my chambers! Maybe I should head down there and see if anyone's been knocking at that door. I hope no one down there's slept through any knocking –"

"Sam, stop," pleaded Pippin, his expression solemn as he turned to the other hobbit. "Our wives are unlikely to be sleeping all that deep; they'd hear someone and they'd send whoever that was in this direction. Please just sit down right now. Take a rest. Watch the game and then play the victor after I beat Merry."

Sam shook his head. "I wouldn't be able to think about what I was doing," he demurred.

"Well," said Pippin, clucking his tongue when Merry made yet another foolish move. Only fools rush in, indeed! He couldn't help feeling a little bit full of himself when he jumped the newly vulnerable piece. "That's not stopping Merry here, now is it?"

"The game's not over yet," Merry reminded him. He shifted his focus away from the board momentarily to take a good look at his friend by the door. Sam looked absolutely dreadful, like he'd aged several years during the course of the night. Judging by that and Pippin's appearance Merry was sure that he looked no better but at least he and his cousin were attempting to relax a little. "Seriously, Sam; Pippin does have a point, and more than just the one that's on his head."

"Thank you," said Pippin obliviously, his expression changing slowly as his fatigued mind caught exactly what Merry had said about him. "Hey…"

"Even if you don't want to play me after I win you should still sit down," Merry interrupted him, his eyes not leaving Sam. "Please, Sam; if you keep going on like you are you're going to drop before any news comes."

"As long as I'm listening I feel like I'm doing something," explained Sam, fighting his impulse to crack the door open and peak out; or maybe just sneak down the corridor until he ran into someone who might be able to tell him _anything_. It was too bad that he would probably be seen by one of the guards, who would question what he was doing out and about so late. He, Merry, and Pippin had taken a big enough risk just getting to Merry's bedchamber – best not to rouse any suspicion at a time when the events happening would make any guard, honest or not, uneasy about changes in the normal routine. "If I sit down now my min will just wander to all of the awful things that have been going on around here lately. It feels _off_, this whole affair, if you know what I mean; it's not right."

Merry slid his second-to-last piece into its chosen square. "No one's saying that it isn't and that all of it is adding up right," he said. "But worrying about it to the point that you collapse isn't going to help anybody."

"Besides, I need a proper opponent over here," added Pippin as he jumped and claimed the checker that Merry had just moved. "My dear cousin here is about to –"

His voice died away when Merry picked up his last remaining piece and with it did a series of jumps over all of Pippin's pieces, eventually landing in the last row of the younger hobbit's side of the board. Pippin let out a brief and wordless outraged noise and gaped as Merry wiped his checkers away in one smooth motion.

"Well," Merry cleared his throat, clearly amused, "I suppose that there's no point in having you king me now that I've won the game." His face broke out in a wicked smile. "But I think that I'll have you do it anyway. It might teach you some humility; you've been lacking that recently…"

"How?" sputtered Pippin, pointing from the board to Merry's triumphant piece to the stack of checkers just like it that he'd been capturing throughout the game. He repeated that cycle a few times before he could gather enough of his wits to make more words. "I – you – how?"

"Open your eyes and ears and learn something, cousin," said Merry, mockingly sage. "You come over here too, Sam; you can take a little break from your watch and learn something very important about what it takes to win a game of checkers."

Sam actually left his doorway vigil and walked over to Merry's side. It wasn't every day that someone shocked Pippin to the point of speechlessness and he was curious to see how his friend managed to accomplish the feat. "I doubt you'd have much to teach me when it comes to besting someone at checkers," he said, conjuring up a weak smile. "Even my old gaffer said that my mind was as sharp as a tack when it came to that."

"You never know," countered Merry cheerfully. Once he was sure that both of them were paying attention he picked up a few checkers from the pile that was stacked up in front of him before snagging a few from the one in front of his cousin. "You see, Pippin here was playing pieces while I was playing the game."

"The pieces _are_ the game," debated Pippin.

"No, your _strategy_ is the game and you, my friend, weren't playing with one," replied Merry, using his fingers to shuffle the pieces around in his hands just to make the irritating noise that they always made when they were knocked together. "You just did everything you could to protect all of your pieces, jumped whenever the possibility presented itself and, assuming that I was doing the same things, didn't give any thought as to where they were landing. All I had to do was bide my time and give you pieces to jump. It might not have been the least messy way to win the game, I might have had to sacrifice all of my other pieces, but in the end I still won because I only cared about that and not the fate of the rest of my checkers or about how my playing might look to my opponent. All I had to do was be patient."

In that moment it was as if a light had suddenly flickered on in his mind. Merry's eyes widened and his smile faded as it finally hit him – he _finally_ realized what he'd been missing, what all of them had been missing. He looked over at his two companions, whose faces were just as shocked and gray as he imagined his own to be.

All three hobbits stared down at the checkerboard simultaneously but it was only Sam who uttered, "Oh _no_…"

"Grab it," ordered Merry abruptly, gesturing with his fist – as his hands were still full of checkers – to the game board. "Grab it now and follow me. We've got to get out of here and find Aragorn and Legolas before it's too late."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Faramir, steward of Gondor, was absolutely exhausted. It felt as if he'd if he'd worked long, full day and the sun was only just rising. He and his family had stayed in the citadel that night, officially (for the guards) to lend the royal family some moral support but really to be on hand should the king and prince of Gondor require any assistance in carrying out the plan. The Man hadn't been sure how the night would play out; obviously he'd been hoping that the outcome would exonerate the guards but beyond that he had known that he needed to be prepared for anything. Still, he wouldn't have minded getting just a few more minutes of sleep while waiting for any orders; but unfortunately that wasn't to be.

Settling his children down to sleep had been a more difficult task than he'd anticipated. It took a good amount of time to reassure his daughter that her frequent charges would be _just fine_; and an even longer time after that to convince his son that Laurelin needed to do something else right then and couldn't possibly come over to play or have a sleepover. Once they had finally drifted off Faramir had gotten caught up in discussing with Eowyn the possibility of anything amounting from the plan. By the time that they'd decided that it was best that they didn't speculate on that now, as they weren't really in a position to do anything about it, the cries of the servants and guards about Gimli's house being on fire started coming from outside and soon the corridors had been filled with the sound of pounding feet.

At that point Faramir had immediately left the bedchamber to seek out the king and prince and, after a few wrong turns, he'd fond them with Eärnil, Tanondor, and Aragorn's brothers as they were carrying the children in the direction of the door to the citadel. Shifting the unconscious Eldarion awkwardly in his arms – the boy was almost thirteen, after all, and getting too big for any adult to carry him like they used to – Aragorn had finally given him what he'd been waiting for: a command. He was to wait for twenty minutes so that the advisors could get the prince and princesses out of the city; then gather as many guards as he could find and order them to meet with the king in the corridors of the royal quarters – _now_. This had been a more difficult task than Faramir had originally anticipated; the shock of seeing the place where Eldarion and the girls were supposedly hiding engulfed in flames had left the guards in a less-than-alert mindset. In the end he'd had to inform them that the children were in fact safe before he could capture their attentions enough to send them on their way to the king.

So Faramir stood, exhausted, beside his king, thinking that if he was feeling that tired he couldn't imagine how worn out Aragorn was. The other Man hid it reasonably well, though, as he surveyed the distraught guards that he once trusted with the most important parts of his life with a suspicious gaze. "I suppose that many of you are wondering what's been going on here this last night," stated Aragorn, his angers mixed with authoritative smoothness.

"Yes, very much so," spoke up Beren, whose eyes were red from weeping and voice hoarse from screaming the names of his beloved crown prince and princesses. The only thing that had kept him from lunging into the flames in a desperate, suicidal attempt to save them was the Lord Faramir's orders and whispered promises that the children were safe and not trapped inside. "To see that fire and believe" – his voice broke off in a cry – "they _weren't_ in there, right? Lord Faramir swore…"

"No, they never stepped foot in that house yesterday," Aragorn told him, resisting the urge to glance over at Faramir. He'd have to have a talk with his steward later about revealing information that he should have but in truth Aragorn really didn't blame him. The king himself hated how the plan required that they put the guards that were truly loyal through this whole trying ordeal.

"Thank the Valar," breathed Mardil in a small voice, slumping a little in relief. "May we see them?"

Aragorn shook his head. "They're not in the citadel, or anywhere else in the city," he announced, his voice stern and hard as if he were a tutor who was scolding a repeatedly violent child. "On my orders the prince and princesses have been removed from Minas Tirith."

A cry rose up from the crowd of guards, one of utter confusion and even a little outrage. "They left the city and no one bothered to tell us?" demanded Beren, all decorum forgotten under this final blow. He stepped forward and met Aragorn's stinging stare. "No, they left the city and we were told that they were somewhere that they weren't! Why, sire? Why did you put us through this nightmare?"

Aragorn opened his mouth to knock the guard back with his accusation but it was another person's voice that filled the air. "Aragorn! Legolas!" shouted Merry. "Stop! Don't do it!"

The panic in the hobbit's voice made Aragorn turn. What he saw was Merry rushing down the corridor toward them, his hands full of checkers; followed by Sam bearing a game board and Pippin, whose eyes were darting around frantically. "Where's Legolas?" Pippin demanded.

"He said something about visiting the children's chambers," answered Aragorn, bewildered and a little annoyed at their abrupt and frankly bizarre intrusion. What was wrong, why did it have to be dealt with at that very moment, and what did checkers have to do with any of it. "I believe that he was going to head to Eldarion's bedchamber first. Why –"

"Go get him, Pip," ordered Merry, apparently not caring that he cut the king of Gondor off. The younger hobbit didn't ask for permission or need to be told twice; he took off at once at a pace that was only matched by the time during the siege of Minas Tirith during the War when he was racing against the crowd to find Mithrandir while Faramir laid on the burning alter. Merry didn't even bother to watch him go before turning back to the Man. "You can't send the children off, Aragorn."

"It's too late," Aragorn informed him, uncomfortable with the way that the hobbit was ordering him around in front of the guards. While he had no problem being a king of the people, not too haughty to mingle and be friendly with the common people, he still needed to maintain an image of authority. "They've already left."

Merry hung his head momentarily. "Oh no," he moaned, temporarily defeated. Then a surge of stubbornness swelled within him – he might not have been able to keep them from departing but maybe he could stop them from going too far! He looked back up at Aragorn with a determined gleam in his eyes. "Sam, help me set up the board. Aragorn, please; for the sake of your children, watch this. The three of us think we've finally figured out why things haven't been adding up right when it comes to this stalker."

"That's been going around a lot lately," commented Faramir with no real humor.

"And all of that before had been wrong," Merry told them, mournful rather than triumphant as he put the checkers into place. "We haven't been understanding it – understanding _him_ – properly. Think about it: the stalker has made it very clear that he can get any one of us whenever he wanted to. He could have easily done something to Laurelin before all of the extra security. He had a _knife_ when he attacked Eldarion but instead of stabbing him he just hit him with the handle. Why is that?"

"To taunt us," replied Aragorn tersely. "To let us know that he can hurt any of us at any time and there's nothing that we could do to stop him."

"That's just it," said Merry. "He doesn't _want_ to hurt just any old one of us. All of the attacks – not the inane deeds and random present and flowers – were aimed at your children. They were his targets all along."

"Well then he failed utterly," said Faramir. "Everything he did just drove them farther and farther from his reach."

Merry looked ready to vomit as he settled down next to the board to illustrate his point. "Or so we thought," he said. "But we weren't thinking about his overall strategy – we were just countering his latest move. First he leaves Laurelin a ghastly present, forcing him to sacrifice some poor soul's finger, and security tightens." He jumped a black checker with a white checker. "Then he spends weeks doing all these helpful creepy little things and we all get more and more paranoid about safety, tightening security even further." Another black checker was jumped by a white one. "_Then_ he goes and attacks Eldarion; a guard actually catches a glimpse of him but he vanishes and security is at an all-time high." He jumped yet another black checker. "Then you start to wonder who can be trusted and come up with a plan to set a trap for him."

His face grew grim as he jumped another black checker with a white one. "You think you've got him cornered now, don't you?" he asked in a tight voice. "He's on the run, the fact that you don't know who he is yet the only piece that he has left, but" – he took the last black checker and jumped all four white checkers, moved into perfect jumping position by their last moves, in one play – "but really he's been waiting for _you_ to move your pieces into place so that he could take them all at once."

Aragorn stared down at the four white pieces (_'Eldarion, Laurelin, Gilraen, Meren…'_) in Merry's hand with horror as realization set in. His children were outside of the city with naught but two older Men to protect them and that might very well have been the stalker's plan the entire time. Had he really been foolish enough to play into the madman's hands like that? If so…

A piercing scream rattled them all out of their musings. _"Guards!"_ Pippin's voice had never been louder and more horrified in his life. _"Guards!"_

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"You have fifteen seconds to explain why you're in my son's wardrobe and how you got in there," snarled Legolas. "_Go_."

Lord Malvegil, advisor to the king of Gondor and, at the moment, one frightened Man, swallowed nervously as he felt the cool steel of the prince's knife against his throat. "I'm not doing anything," he gasped out. "I'm only trying to help."

"By lurking in Eldarion's wardrobe?" asked Legolas incredulously. The Man flushed in the face of his fury. "Funny sort of help."

In all his years on the Advisor's Council Malvegil had never once seen Legolas so enraged. Oh, he might have _felt_ angry but he never once knowingly lost control of any emotions in the presence of another advisor until that moment. It suddenly occurred to the lord that the prince was entirely capable of killing him. "Please, I beg you –"

At that moment Pippin burst into the chamber and goggled at the sight he found there. Nice, calm Legolas was holding a deadly-looking knife to a nobleman's throat, looking worn-down and enraged enough to put it to proper use. "Legolas!" he cried, but his friend appeared to be too focused on Malvegil to hear him. He supposed that he should have wondered why the lord was in Eldarion's bedchamber in the first place but at the moment he only knew that, according to the way that he and the other two had figured things out, the stalker would be outside of the city and anywhere near the royal quarters. Dear Shire, Legolas was about to do something that he would probably regret for the rest of his life and the hobbit didn't know how to stop him. _"Guards! Guards!"_

What sounded like a stampede responded immediately to his screams. In no time flat a crowd led by Aragorn and Faramir, and consisting of what looked like every guard in the citadel came charging in. Merry and Sam, lagging because of their shorter legs, soon moved through the throng to stand with the king and steward. "My love!" shouted Aragorn, lunging forward and grabbing the hand that held the knife. Legolas was so stiff that he Man found that he couldn't make him move. "Lower your knife, my love. We need answers from him before we decide what to do with him."

Slowly Legolas registered what his husband said and lowered the knife. Two guards were already grabbing the lord even before the blade left the skin of his throat. "He was in Eldarion's wardrobe, Aragorn," Legolas stated furiously, gesturing with the weapon. "I came in here and there he was, just like the stalker!"

"I was checking to see if all of the doors were truly being guarded," spoke up Malvegil, desperately pleading his case to Aragorn since he could tell that the prince wasn't very interested in excuses and reason at the moment. "They weren't; only the visible ones were. There are more doors to these chambers than just the ones that you can see."

"Explain," ordered Aragorn sharply.

"I'll do better than that – I'll show you," he offered, wincing a little when one of the guards tightened his grip. "I'll need to move around a little more freely to do so, though."

The Man hesitated, but only momentarily. "Guards, let him go but don't leave him out of grabbing distance," glowered Aragorn. The two guards didn't look entirely happy but they obeyed. "Now show us and be quick about it."

Malvegil walked cautiously over to the wardrobe and flung it wide open so that everyone in there could see inside. "This has a false back," he announced, reaching in to touch the wooden back. Everyone stared in shock when he slid it aside in one smooth motion to reveal the wall that it was pressed up against. "It, like various other pieces of furniture, has been nailed to the floor to discourage moving others from moving it so that _this_ remains both hidden and accessible."

He pushed against the center of the exposed wall; the seemingly solid rock easily gave way to reveal what looked to be a dark tunnel. "What is this?" wondered Legolas.

"Insurance," replied Malvegil grimly. "In the old days of the king these tunnels were to be used for the king's family to escape as a last resort in case the royal quarters were overrun, ensuring that his line would continue. These were kept an absolute secret even from the guards – as one never knew if they'd remain loyal in the end, if they ever were at all – and only referenced once, in a document hidden deep in the library. That paper and the tunnels were forgotten when the king went away; as it was, we only found the reference after Lord Denethor discovered the tunnels."

"Why wasn't I told about these?" demanded Aragorn as he imagined all the times that anyone could have attacked any one of his children. To think that he'd let them be this vulnerable, this exposed…

"We thought that you knew," replied Malvegil. "It's not something that's spoken about in front of others who don't and shouldn't know; and there was so much bad blood between you and the Council during the first years of your reign that none of us tried to tell you in private. We just assumed that Lord Faramir would let you know."

"I didn't know about these," said Faramir, sounding a little dazed and sad.

"But surely Lord Denethor –"

"No son of my father's runs in the face of danger."

Malvegil shook his head. "You were but a child when he found them," he told him.

Faramir gave him a painful smile. "No son of my father's runs in the face of danger," he repeated in a melancholy tone.

"Wait one minute," spoke up Legolas, his nerves frayed. "Are you telling me that every advisor save me and Faramir knew about these?"

"No! Goodness, no," said Malvegil tautly, the knife not forgotten. "The Lord Denethor would have never shared knowledge of these with anyone willingly. The only reason why I know about them at all is because we were speaking to him after a Council meeting when he stumbled upon one of the doors, the one in the meeting hall's wall."

"And who makes up this 'we' that you keep mentioning?" pressed Aragorn. "Who else knows?"

"There were four; I assume that the secret stayed between us," recounted Malvegil. "Me, Cirion, Tanondor, and Eärnil. I know no more," he added quickly when he saw the king and prince's eyes widen. "May I suggest finding Eärnil and Tanondor now? Perhaps they know something that I don't,"

To be continued…


	18. The danger unnoticed

For one terrible moment the entire world seemed to freeze in the wake of Lord Malvegil's unintentional announcement. For that Man and the guards who were swarming Prince Eldarion's bedchamber it had only stopped because they were awaiting orders as to what to do next. Did the king and prince believe the lord's story, or should the guards continue to detain him? Were they to go and stop the cart taking the crown prince and princesses out of the protective sphere of Minas Tirith or did they need to track down the other two noblemen that might have information on who the stalker might be? There was no way that they could comprehend the complete significance of learning the identities of the people who knew about the secret passageways; there were only six beings there that could.

Those six – Legolas, Aragorn, Faramir, Sam, Merry, and Pippin – had been rendered immobile not just because of the question of what they should do next, but also because of the horror that had quickly given way to guilt. What had they done, or helped do? Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen – those innocent, helpless children – were gone, in the custody of one (or both) of the Men who might very well have been the person who'd been stalking and threatening them the entire time; and it was their parents and loved ones who'd practically given them away to them. The crushing burden of finally realizing their terrible mistake and all of the potential horrifying consequences that could happen because of it was enough to bring the strongest person to their knees – if they had the luxury to have the time to fall in such a manner.

Time was something that they couldn't afford, but guilt was difficult to put aside. "Dear Elbereth," moaned Legolas at length after forcing himself to face the reality of the situation. He turned his eyes, full of despair, fear, and grim determination, to his shell-shocked husband. "I knew. I _knew_ that there was something wrong with this whole situation! What is wrong with me? Why didn't I trust my instincts enough to insist that we wait until we had more information to try such a risky plan?"

"Why didn't _I_ trust in that when you spoke of it?" asked Aragorn. His thoughts immediately went back to less than twenty-four hours earlier when Legolas had asserted his apprehension and he'd more or less dismissed it by basically telling him 'I understand how you feel but I'm going to ignore your elven intuition and years of experience and do things the way I decided, for no good reason, that they should be done.'

The arrogance of it all almost made the Man visibly wince. There had once been a time when he'd trusted Legolas' feelings just as much as he trusted his own and before whatever anyone else told him. Before doing something so damnably rash he would have consulted his husband extensively as well as gotten his family's opinions on the matter – after all, hadn't the hobbits been going on and on for weeks about something not feeling right about the whole thing? Now he'd condescended to Legolas' concerns and practically relegated the rest of his loved ones to being silent observers, baby-sitters, and occasional pawns. Valar, what had be become?

He already knew the answer to that, and it was not one that he liked: he'd only become the very type of ruler that he used to scorn, the one that placed too much faith in the advisors surrounding him and not enough in the people who'd stood by his side since before he gained power. He silently gave a bitter laugh as he remembered when, long ago, he'd vehemently refused to trust those noblemen with even the most menial of tasks; now he'd allowed at least one of them to manipulate the most dire of situations. Why hadn't he at the very least looked to his own instincts? The pit of his stomach sank a little when Aragorn realized that he hadn't even bothered to formulate much of an opinion as to what was happening and why; he'd just blindly relied on the Council's advice and allowed their discussions to do the thinking for him.

"My liege?" Beren felt compelled to speak up in the midst of all the confusion. To Aragorn it sounded like his voice was coming from far away; and the king looked at him blankly for several seconds while his mind struggled to think clearly through the shocked daze. "Forgive me, King Elessar, but what exactly is going on here? What are your orders?"

Aragorn stared out at him and the other guards – all loyal and increasingly concerned when no one made any decisive decisions right away – and felt a powerful sense of shame. Just a few minutes earlier he'd looked into that crowd of tear-stained faces with nothing more than suspicion and anger. When had those Men done _anything_ to deserve his total distrust? Of course they hadn't caught the stalker right away, but neither had he, Legolas, or any other member of their family and it wasn't as if any of _them_ were shrinking violets who waited around to be saved. Yes, Eldarion's guard had failed to protect his son on the day of the attack, but it was Sam who'd allowed the boy to go back to his bedchamber in the first place when so much danger surrounded them. So why had the guards – who'd devoted months, oftentimes years, to caring and loving his son and daughters even while they protected them – seemed any more suspicious than any one of his loved ones?

No reason, except for the fact that someone had _told_ him that they were possible traitors. No evidence, no inklings from anyone else who was closer to the situation that they too felt that something was wrong, not even an official mention of it at a Council meeting where the theory would have been up for debate. What reasons did Aragorn have to believe such a serious accusation when there was so little to back it up? There were his own fears and frustrations but wise and fair kings didn't make ruling decisions based on those emotions – only desperate tyrants. Was he in danger of becoming one of those?

"It's," stammered Aragorn, groping for the correct words that would make his guards understand what he was mortified to even try to. "It's a nightmare – a complicated, twisted, foolish _nightmare_."

This did little to comfort anyone in the chamber; their king wasn't making any sense. "King Elessar?" asked Lord Malvegil tentatively while the guards stood staring.

"Lord Malvegil," spoke up Legolas with surprising strength. It seemed to everyone that his sanity had been restored after the uncharacteristic outburst that had brought all but a couple of them to Eldarion's bedchamber in the first place. Indeed, he'd pushed aside his rage and every other emotion that had the potential to interfere with getting his children back. Malvegil didn't know this, but he did look slightly reassured when he saw that rationality had returned to the prince consort. "We need for you to tell us everything you can about the Lords Tanondor and Eärnil – _very_ quickly."

"I'm – I'm not sure what you mean by that," replied Malvegil a little nervously, as he was slightly taken aback by Legolas' sudden boldness. He did not harbor any dislike for the elf, but it had been a long time since Legolas had given anyone such a direct order while speaking as the prince consort of Gondor and longer still since he'd said anything in that official capacity without his husband's opinion being voiced first.

Legolas couldn't blame him for being knocked so off-centered by his demand. How long had it been since the elf had exercised his authority as King Elessar's spouse, or even as a member of the king's Advisors' Council? He'd wanted the latter position almost solely because he loved Gondor and wished to have a say in what would be done to ensure the realm's continued thriving but now he couldn't remember the last time he'd said anything at the meetings that wasn't a direct support or defense of Aragorn and the Man's beliefs. Legolas knew that he was a better politician than that!

He was absolutely disgusted with himself when he realized that he'd practically surrendered himself and all of his influence to Aragorn's will, demurring to his husband even when he seriously disagreed with him – like in his suspicion of the guards. Of all of the personas that he'd somehow adopted over the centuries – Mirkwood's headstrong prince, precise and deadly archer, fierce warrior, cool-headed elven prince of Men, fiery spouse, opinionated and protective father – the only one that he truly hated was the one that he'd let himself turn into: the silent Sun Star, who did nothing but smile softly as he submitted to another person. All he needed was the stool, parade of troubadours, and a slew of trite verses and the transformation would be complete.

Unless, of course, he at last rebelled against it once more; and that was exactly what he planned on doing for his own sake as well as for Aragorn and their children. "Lord Tanondor and Lord Eärnil," he reiterated authoritatively, taking a few intimidating but not threatening steps toward the befuddled Man. "You have known them for longer and more intimately than anyone else in this chamber; I ask you now if you believe that either of them would have the capacity and inclination to harm any one of my children."

"Them?" marveled Malvegil, trying to wrap his mind around that idea. Shaking his head, he looked the prince right in the eyes. "Sire, I would swear upon the winged crown of the king that neither of them could be even remotely involved in this whole stalker affair. Of course," he added as a haunted expression suddenly flitted over his face, "I would have claimed much the same about Lady Nienor when she committed her crimes thirteen years ago. I would hope that my judgment has improved since then, but…"

"But what?" pressed Legolas insistently. "Have you thought of something?"

"To be completely honest, my prince," replied Malvegil somewhat sheepishly, "if I were not involved at all and so could judge the circumstances with an objective eye I would say that, of the original four advisors that knew about the hidden corridors, _I_ am the most logical suspect now that Cirion is dead."

"But you are not involved," said Legolas with conviction. He _knew_ it from the back of his mind to the bottom of his stomach. Since logic and reasoning had done nothing to protect his children he was more than willing to let his instinct guide him from now on.

One of the guards who was still holding onto Lord Malvegil cleared his throat. "With all due respect, my prince," he said politely, not wanting to dismiss the intruding nobleman so lightly while he still didn't fully understand what was going on, "how are you so certain about that?"

"Because he trusts his instincts and so do I," Aragorn found his voice at last, grateful to his husband for giving him the strength to draw on and inspiration not to give in to despair yet. "And beyond that, we both rightly trust in the lords Brandybuck, Gamgee, and Took to correctly interpret the situation, seeing that it took good hobbit sense to solve a great mystery once before in our lives. Do you three believe that the lord is involved in any way with the stalker?"

"That doesn't seem likely," Merry spoke for them, giving Malvegil a scrutinizing stare. "Showing us the tunnels reveals too much about the stalker's strategy; and besides, according to what we figured out, the stalker would be tailing the children, not hanging out where he knows that they won't be."

A cold feeling rushed over Aragorn as the hobbit inadvertently reminded him that they had little time to waste. "That's good enough for me," he declared urgently. "Now listen up: Lord Malvegil, you are to stay here and tell Beren everything you can about the two lords, no matter how trivial it may seem. Beren, remain here to listen to it all; then you must take what the lord gives you and use it to your advantage when you then move on to Lord Eärnil and Lord Tanondor's houses to question their wives. I don't care if it's you doing the questioning or if you assign the Men we leave behind here to help you to the tasks as long as it is done quickly."

"Am I to understand that you don't wish for us to speak to the lord themselves?" asked Beren uncertainly, hoping that for once in this strange instance that he was reading everything correctly. Ever since he and the other guards had been called to that ridiculous training session the world seemed to be turned upside down and nothing made sense anymore. "Should we instruct the ladies and the household staff to not inform them of our presence?"

"That won't be necessary, as neither of them are in Minas Tirith," admitted Aragorn. "Later I shall ask for forgiveness from all of you but for now I need for you to work without that apology; if not for my sake than for the sakes of the prince and princesses who love you so much."

"The lords have the children with them now, don't they?" asked Beren, finally comprehending the full meaning of the situation. My, how bitter did that understanding taste! "The two of them came to you secretly and presented an argument that some of the guards were involved with the stalker. Last night – last night wasn't a test for the Council members – it was for us!"

"I swear that I will give you all an apology that is fit for believing such a reprehensible accusation," vowed Aragorn as his chest tightened. What if that was too much to ask of them? No! The last time he'd doubted the faith of his guards had led them into the current disaster; now he needed to trust in their devotion to the children if nothing else. "However, at the moment Eldarion, Laurelin, and the babies can't wait for that long an apology to get over with before anyone comes to their rescue. Do it for them, do it for my husband who never really believed that you were involved, if you find that you cannot do it for me."

If they were honest with themselves – and they were – Beren and most of the other guards found that they couldn't really fault their king for his doubts in their loyalties once they were able to look past their outrage and hurt feelings. Without knowing about the secret passageways that apparently lined the walls of the royal quarters all of the excuses they'd been giving for not finding the stalker sooner were very weak. After all, it was very difficult to believe that anyone could be too sneaky to catch when they were carrying around a large bouquet of irila flowers or piles of clean diapers, especially when said "presents" were left so close (or inside) the bedchambers there. And how many people could – nay, _should_ – have believed that a guard would thoroughly check the prince consort's bedchamber for intruders and completely miss the Man lurking in the wardrobe? What about the story of the suspect just _vanishing_? They knew how all of that happened now, but without that knowledge a reasonable person couldn't help but conclude that only the incredibly suspect or hopelessly incompetent would come up with excuses like that.

"I cannot speak for the others," declared Beren, "but as for myself I shall do it for all of you."

A murmur of general agreement ran through the crowd of guards. "As shall we all," added Mardil determinedly.

Aragorn flashed them a smile, one that was void of all good humor but still grateful and kind nonetheless. "And I will never forget it," he promised sincerely. Straightening up his back and squaring his shoulders he started barking out orders: "You three, stay here with Beren and obey him in however he decides to interrogate the ladies. I mean it, Beren: I trust to your judgment in that respect; but do keep in mind that time is crucial and in short supply. Lord Malvegil, you are not to leave until Beren in satisfied that he's gotten everything that he can get from you. The rest of you are to come with me."

He marched at once to the door. Legolas was at his side almost immediately and everyone else followed a split second later. "King Elessar?" asked one of the accompanying guards. "What are we to do? Where are we going?"

"We'll start outside of the walls of the city," decided Aragorn. Really, he hadn't had to think about that too hard; for he knew that no matter what the lords' intentions might be they would still have to at least leave Minas Tirith by the main gates. The few other, more secret entrances were constantly barred against people using them to go in and out unless in an emergency, and were not – for defensive reasons – not big enough to get anything larger than a single file of people out of anyway. Certainly a cart full of sleeping children wouldn't fit. "From there we will either be reunited with the children or else start tracking them."

"We will find them," added Legolas, not because his instincts told him that they would but because he didn't even want to entertain the possibility of what would happen if they didn't. He clutched his stomach as the feeling of thousands of figurative butterflies flapping in there intensified for a few seconds. "We must find them. Anything else is unthinkable."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

The world outside of the city walls were notably quiet compared to the bustle that usually went on within the seven levels of Minas Tirith – especially after the previous night's extreme example of chaos and noise. It was such a striking contrast that it felt almost unnatural. Neither of the older Men who were driving along in a plain, unremarkable little cart were complaining, though. Both of them welcomed the chance to have the opportunity to actually listen to their own thoughts; and Eärnil and Tanondor both had plenty of thoughts, different though that they were from each other's.

Lord Tanondor had taken the first turn at the reins, guiding the horses steadily along until they'd gone out of the city gates and beyond. After some time had elapsed, Eärnil, who was seated beside him, twisted around to watch the White City vanish from his line of vision. When the White Tower of Ecthelion dipped below the horizon line he let out a sigh and turned back, falling against the back of the uncomfortable wooden bench. "We're out of sight from the city," he reported.

"Good," said Tanondor, slowing the horses down to a walk. "Then we should give our good beasts of burden a brief respite. We wouldn't want them to be going so fast that we end up overshooting King Thranduil and Lord Gimli on the path anyway. Do you have a clue as to how much further it is until we reach the rendezvous point?"

"A few more miles at least," replied Eärnil distractedly. He twisted his body again, this time to reach behind them to the back of the cart where a large blanket had been strategically placed to hide their precious cargo. With a careful flourish he pulled it away, revealing the slumbering faces of the prince and princesses. "It should be safe enough to take this off of them now. The sun has risen and it is already a hot enough day; I wouldn't want them to get overheated."

Not a peep came from Eldarion and Laurelin when they were exposed to the brightness of the sun; and Gilraen and Meren only stirred a little before settling back down again in their baskets. "It's so quiet," noted Tanondor in a soft voice. "Are they still asleep?"

"Yes, the poor things," clucked Eärnil sympathetically. He stretched out his arm to pat the closest one – Laurelin – on the head fondly. The little girl simply sighed in her sleep and gave no more response. "I'm amazed – I never imagined Prince Eldarion or Princess Laurelin to be such heavy sleepers! – but I'm glad for it too. It's best that they get a little bit of peace now, as it will be more elusive in the near future. They will not be happy when they open their eyes and find that they can't go home."

"But surely King Elessar and Prince Legolas would have told them about this possibility," debated Tanondor.

"Oh, I'm certain of that; but I doubt that the children actually _believed_ that it would really come to this," countered Eärnil with his years of wisdom at being a father. "Most children have the tendency to believe that their parents will always be around and that home will always be a haven."

Tanondor's brow creased in confusion. "Even after all that happened to them there?" he wondered. "Surely after being attacked and all they must know that the king and prince can't protect them and that Minas Tirith is now a dangerous place to be."

"It's often more complicated than that," said Eärnil, not sure if he approved of what his friend had just said and implied. He couldn't think of anything else that King Elessar and Prince Legolas could have done to make their children safer and he doubted that Tanondor could either. "Besides, the distance from their parents will be what really bothers them. Why, my own daughter found it very difficult to leave our home when she got married and she was only moving to another house in the city."

"I suppose it's something that a father would understand," commented Tanondor quietly. "I wouldn't know about that."

Eärnil looked at his old friend closely. Of course he knew all about Tanondor's wife being barren – it was difficult _not_ to hear about such things in a court setting – but he'd never known him to speak about it so openly before. In fact, had it not been for the common assumption that every nobleman wants children so that he has someone to pass his name, blood, and fortunes on to the Man would have thought that he didn't care if he never became a father. "You may yet," Eärnil told him kindly. "Your wife is much younger than you, after all, and is not past her child-bearing years yet."

"We've tried," said Tanondor in a voice that was hard for Eärnil to read.

"Don't give up," the other Man urged him. "Stranger things have happened – why, you just have to look at our young passengers for proof of that!"

"Yes, the children are proof of something," replied Tanondor, gazing back at them ponderously. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately and now I think that I've finally come up with a reason why the efforts of myself and my wife have come to no avail. The children here are evidence that I am right, and that it is love that solely creates a new life."

The other lord nodded wordlessly, though not because he agreed with that assessment; he knew far too many people who didn't seem capable of anything more than lust having large, sometimes unacknowledged, broods. Rather, he nodded because Tanondor was acting – well, quite odd. The cart was barely crawling along by now and, despite the need to press on, the Man was actually pulling on the reins and making the horses halt altogether.

"I do not love my wife," confessed Tanondor. His face was almost alight with anticipation and his tone was eager; it seemed to Eärnil that he was finally saying things that he'd been longing to say for a great deal of time. "I think that is why I was never able to become a father; the love that was needed to make a new life was never present. Scoff if you want, Eärnil, but it's true; you love your wife and through that you created your daughter."

"I do love her," conceded Eärnil stiffly.

"I didn't realize how powerful something like that is," Tanondor went on excitedly. "Now I've seen what happens when two people who are truly in love join bodies – the energy, the power, the beauty of it alone would be able to give a person the ability to do anything if they knew how to harness it. You should see King Elessar and Prince Legolas make love – I never thought I'd say this, but the way that they do it should be considered a form of art."

"I beg your pardon?" asked Eärnil in a clipped tone, outraged only slightly because he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing and what it meant.

"I saw them once, when I was in the secret corridor that starts in the meeting hall," explained Tanondor, not really comprehending his friend's growing confusion and alarm. "Do you remember the days when Cirion used to go on about being certain that they were doing something so 'disgusting' in there? Well, I've seen it with my own eyes and I say that there's nothing objectionable about it. King Elessar looked so majestic and strong; and Prince Legolas has never looked more beautiful than he did when he submitted so completely to the king like that. Cirion would ramble on about the prince being more like a willful love, caring about his own needs and pleasure, than a submissive spouse, but he didn't see the way that Prince Legolas so selflessly pleasured King Elessar with his mouth and body! Cirion would have eaten his own words had he ever seen the prince as I have."

His expression suddenly clouded over. "He would have liked to have seen that, and more," he said with quiet malice. "I know this. One day he came over to my house to rant away as usual about how the prince _enthralled _King Elessar when he confessed his dirty little secret. Do you know what that was, Eärnil? He told me that he understood the king's attraction because if Prince Legolas ever offered himself to _him_ he would accept and take him with relish! The disloyalty of it all! And I had to sit there and listen to him lust after a person who was in love with his spouse after I had to lose her to him."

"Tanondor," said Eärnil cautiously, unconsciously inching away from him, "you've stopped making sense awhile ago. You actually spied on the king and prince during an intimate moment? And who is this 'her', and what does she have to do with that invasion of privacy?"

"Do you not remember that I attempted to court Lady Almarian before she became Cirion's wife?" asked Tanondor. A wistful smile came to his face, as if he were peering back through the years at a more innocent time. "I could have created many children with her, so deep did my love run. It still does, in fact; perhaps that is why I could never bring myself to love my wife. Yet Lady Almarian loved Cirion and married him, created a child with him too, even though he was such a wretch. He couldn't have loved her nearly as much as I did – maybe that's why Lady Nienor turned out so poorly. Oh Eärnil, I'm glad that they're both dead! Now I can set things right for Lady Almarian."

Dear Valar, he was insane. A slow sinking feeling came over Eärnil as it dawned that he, the king, the prince, the guards, and everyone else had all been set up. "What do you mean by that?" he wondered, quietly dreading the answer.

"Love is a strange emotion – it can hurt as well as it can heal," explained Tanondor. "Lady Almarian loved the wrong Man and what came forth from that hurt people. King Elessar and Prince Legolas are very much in love but that has hurt others as well. Now, the lady has paid a prince disproportionate to what she did – she was exiled though she did nothing, lost her family, and now is all alone. How have the king and prince atoned for how their love hurt others – hurt her? They too must pay; they must give up their children to her so that she won't be alone anymore."

"It was you all along, wasn't it?" asked Eärnil in horror, although he already knew the answer. "You're the stalker! Did you honestly think that I'd let you get away with it? Well, I won't! Come, Prince Eldarion! Princess Laurelin! Wake up at once – we must leave!"

Tanondor watched him with passive eyes. "That won't work," he said, eerily calm. "I gave them a strong sleeping potion in their water. It should keep them unconscious until they reach their new life."

"This is insane!" blurted out Eärnil passionately. "It won't _work_, Tanondor. By the Valar, if you're so concerned about Lady Almarian being lonely why didn't you just leave to go to her by yourself? Why are you trying to drag the prince and princesses into it?"

"She is too old to bear any more children so they will be our children," said Tanondor decisively. "She deserves to have some good children after the bad seed that Cirion gave her."

"Stand down, Tanondor," ordered Eärnil authoritatively. "You may not be thinking properly but what you're doing is wrong. I am placing you under arrest in the name of the king of Gondor."

Tanondor dropped the reins to turn and look at him sadly. "I am sorry that it's come to this," he lamented. "King Elessar and Prince Legolas are good people; I don't like bringing them such agony but it has to be done. And you've been my friend for scores of years – would that this was not necessary!"

Before Eärnil could react, the insane lord pulled out a knife from under his cloak. Eärnil only had the time to register that its handle bore the symbol of the king before the pain of having it plunged into his body overwhelmed his senses. "May it be a comfort to know that doing this pains me greatly," whispered Tanondor; then he pulled the knife back to him and pushed Eärnil out of the cart.

Tucking the knife back into its hiding place, Tanondor retook the reins, steered the horses in a different directions, and sped off, leaving his old friend bleeding on the ground in his dust.

To be continued…


	19. From bad to worse

It didn't take long for Beren to figure out that there was nothing else of value that Lord Malvegil could tell him. After ordering the noble to wait in the Council meeting hall in case the king returned and wanted to speak with him some more, the guard had organized the three Men that King Elessar had ordered to stay behind with him while the rest rode off to the rescue of the prince and princesses into two groups. He sent off the most experienced one of them (behind himself, of course) off with the second-to-youngest one to question Lord Eärnil's wife; he then took Eldacar, the youngest of the lot, off with him to have a little chat with the wife of Lord Tanondor.

Eldacar, frustrated that he had to remain in the city while almost all of his colleagues got to be off on the mission that was closest to all of their hearts, had started twitching as soon as everyone else had stormed out of Prince Eldarion's bedchamber. It was one time too many for Beren when he twitched once more as they finally approached the home of the suspected Lord. "Do not do that again," warned the senior guard, his dark undertones almost covering up his irritation.

"Do what?" asked Eldacar distractedly. He wasn't trying to be sullen or cheeky – he really wasn't aware of how restless he was acting. In fact, he wasn't aware of much of anything except his own worry about the fate of his brave crown prince and sweet little princesses.

"Don't stir about and twitch like you've got something better to do that we're holding you back from," snapped Beren. He usually wasn't so short, especially when he could understand where the other Man was coming from, but he knew the importance of the task at hand and he would be damned if his colleague was going to try to dismiss that. "You are a guard of the citadel who has been entrusted by the king of Gondor to carry out this task and I won't tolerate you acting as if you've got something better to do with your time."

"I am proud to be able to do whatever I can to help my king and prince in a way that they deem fit," replied Eldacar through gritted teeth, trying to keep from yelling at Beren. "But I can't help wanting to be one of the ones who are hurrying to the children right now. I've been a guard of the royal family since right before Prince Legolas became pregnant with the twins –"

"And I stood guard over him immediately after he was attacked by Lady Nienor when he was pregnant with Prince Eldarion," Beren cut him off, silently daring the younger guard to compare his love for the children against his. "Yet I am not behaving like an ill-mannered brat because I can't be where I want to be."

Clenching his fists tightly Eldacar willed himself to relax. "I apologize," he said profusely. "I just don't understand what we could possibly find out from the lady that would be of any help right now."

"We can't dismiss any possibility, especially when we have the manpower available to explore them," explained Beren tensely as the pair began to ascend the short staircase that led to the main doors of the nobleman's estate. "One bit of knowledge gained here might do the prince and princesses more good in the long run than one hundred of the finest warriors of Gondor chasing after them now."

Eldacar managed to give him a wry half-smile as Beren straightened his back and shoulders before knocking insistently on the doors. "That is probably true," the young Man conceded, "but then again, I wasn't the only one of us who's been twitching. I was just polite enough not to mention it earlier."

Beren opened his mouth to shoot back a witty retort but all words died on his tongue when a noise coming from inside caught his attention. Thinking that he might have just imagined it he placed a finger against his lips to warn Eldacar to be quiet and pressed his ear against the doors. There is was again! It sounded as if someone was shuffling around on the other side. Quickly he drew his head back so he wouldn't fall when the doors were opened but several seconds passed without anyone answering the knock. When he pressed his ear against them again, Beren couldn't hear anything.

The older guard looked at his counterpart, who nodded slowly and grasped the hilt of the sword that hung on his belt. Glaring at the pieces of wood standing between him and whoever was trying to bar him from carrying out the king's instructions as if his will alone was powerful enough to shatter them Beren pounded on the doors with all of his might. "Open at once in the name of King Elessar Telcontar of Gondor!" he ordered with a bellow.

Again there was shuffling and again they were not permitted to enter. Steam was practically coming out of Beren's ears; Eldacar looked at him uneasily, wondering if it would be considered improper to move away a little lest the older Man literally explode. "I said _open up_ in the name of your king and mine!" screamed Beren.

"We can hear you," added Eldacar in disgust. "It would be better for you and everyone else if you made the choice to grant us entry."

"I" – a young voice called tentatively from inside. "I'm not supposed to let anyone in. The lady is the only one here and she can't see anyone. The lord told me so – she's…she's not feeling well."

"It might be your lord and lady's will that she see no one, but neither of them can override the will of the king," Eldacar told him. "Believe me, things are going to be a lost worse for you all if you force us to break the doors down."

"And we will," interjected Beren. "King Elessar has given me full authority to do what I think is necessary to carry out his orders. By invitation or force I think that it's necessary for me and my colleague to enter this house. Now. Open. The. Door."

One long second passed by with no response; then the sound of the lock being unlatched filled the air. Eldacar released the hold on his sword as the doors creaked open ever so slowly and a young servant boy – who was no older than Eldarion but certainly smaller – peeked out at them. "The lord isn't here right now," he reiterated in a shaking voice.

"That's fine," Beren told him in a calm voice, not wanting to scare the boy by letting him know that he was already aware of the lord's movements but also not wanting to create for him a false sense of security. Terrible things could very well lay ahead for everyone in that household, after all, and there was no use in trying to shield him from it. "We're here to question the lady."

"The lady?" the boy's hands flew up to clutch the edges of both of the doors. The two guards were startled to see how badly his hands were trembling. "The lady cannot see anyone. Good day."

Two well-placed feet prevented him from shutting the door in their faces. "We must insist on seeing her," said Beren threateningly, not all that conflicted about scaring the servant anymore. "If you want me to forget about how you just crushed my little toe in the doorframe right now you'll go and fetch her at once."

The little boy squeaked and took off running presumably – hopefully – in search of his lady. Beren and Eldacar stood waiting on the outside steps for a number of minutes, feeling too tense and awkward to use their time to relax a little. "What's taking so long?" the younger guard finally exploded.

"We'll give them half a minute more to come; then we go looking for them," decided Beren. Under normal circumstances he might have given the young Man a lecture on patience but at that moment patience seemed less like a virtue and more like a purveyor of costly delays.

The rest of the time, however, wasn't needed; for before his deadline had come to en end the servant boy returned with the lady of the house following two steps behind him. "Here they are, my lady," he was saying in a sympathetic tone. "They swore not to leave us alone until they spoke to you. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, child," said the lady softly. She was older than Eldacar but younger than Beren, no longer a girl or even a young woman but still young enough to be in her childbearing years. To the two guards she looked to be like most of the other noble's wives – pretty enough but otherwise unremarkable – except for the mixture of fear and hope that seemed to be emanating from her. "What brings you two here at this how, and in the name of the king? Has anything happened to my lord?"

"Not that we know of," answered Beren honestly. "We've come to ask you about his behavior and attitude as of late. May we come in or do we have to do this out here?"

"I…" the lady began, anxiously looking back and forth between them. When she saw that they seemed to know something beyond the normal inquiries she became truly frightened. "Please, I cannot! You must believe me!"

"We would never ask you to betray your husband's confidence," said Beren soothingly. Eldacar discreetly pulled on his sleeve but he ignored it. One little lie would be all right if it got her to say something that would help the prince and princesses! "The king fears that your husband might know something that could help – yes, _what_ is it?"

He looked at Eldacar in annoyance and was shocked to when he saw the young Man's face. It was devoid of any color, his eyes were impossibly wide, and his mouth was slack. "Her hand," Eldacar said, sounding horrified and dazed. "Her hand, Beren; look at her hand."

The older guard complied and couldn't stop the gasp that tore from his lips. Though partially obscured by her long sleeve and the way that she was wringing her hands together it was plain enough to see that the lady only had _nine_ fingers. In place of the missing one were some stitches set in skin that was a shade too pink not to be a little infected. "My lady," croaked out Beren. Dear Valar, the finger left for Princess Laurelin…it had come from a _living_ person. "My lady, what did your husband do to you?"

"You have to help her!" the servant boy cried out when all of the emotion left his lady's face and she did not answer. "There's something wrong with the lord; his mind's all twisted! About a month ago he came home with a knife, took her to their bedchamber, and…I can still hear her screaming. Please, please; whatever he's done he did it to her too. Save her from him, please!"

"Hush, child," admonished the lady quietly, placing her complete hand on his back and giving him an affectionate pat. She then turned to Beren and Eldacar; and in her eyes they could see the despair, confusion, and breaking of a person whose husband hurt her and she didn't want to believe it. "The dear boy takes his duty to care for me when my lord cannot very seriously, but he is too young to understand that married people sometimes interact with each other in strange ways. My lord wouldn't normally do this but – but he said that he needed my finger."

Her face crumpled as her voice broke and the tears she'd been holding inside while still too shocked by her husband's actions to process them fully finally fell. "He's not so terrible. He – he even took some herbs from – from the Houses of Healing to ease – my pain. I am his wife…"

"Yes, but not his supply of body parts!" protested Eldacar bluntly. "My lady, no one has the right to be so cruel to another person no matter what relationship they may have! Please tell us more about what he's done to you and we'll protect you. You could even help us find the prince and princesses" –

"He took them?" asked the traumatized woman. Her expression became an odd mix of relief and sheer terror. "Then he is gone and will never return. Those poor, poor children…"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

The city may have been stirring with gossip and speculation about the fire at Gimli's home but for the moment it was too early in the day for more than a few vague whispers to reach the ears of the guards that stood watch just outside of the city gates. The two Men had gone on duty in the middle of the night – before the excitement began – and were getting more tired and relieved as the early morning wore on, looking forward to the time when they could leave their posts and get some rest. It was a dull guard shift, really; even the evil-doers in the world seemed to be sleeping during those hours so nothing ever happened then.

While the people of Minas Tirith had seen more than their fair share of chaos and battle marches, all had been relatively peaceful since the destruction of the One Ring and the return of the king. Oh, there had been many orc hunts in the first couple of years that followed those events but none of those involved anything that came across as too grand or terrifying to be a real threat. Usually doing those the king would just lead a smallish pack of people out of the gates, giving whoever was on guard at the time an almost jovial wave as he galloped off not to be seen for again for weeks on end. As a result of that, most of the gate guards – especially most of the newer ones who weren't old enough to have been soldiers during the War or immediately afterward – weren't used to seeing large groups of grim-faced people moving out of the city with a deadly serious mission.

That explained why the two guards that morning were more than a little shocked to find the gates that morning opened without warning to reveal a large force riding out of the city at a great pace. At the head of it was Aragorn, a forbidding expression on his face that was belied by the ill look in his eyes, and his husband Legolas beside him, his fine elvish features drawn into such a focused determination that it was amazing that he was able to register anything else but what he was searching for. The hobbits were rode a little ways behind them with Elladan and Elrohir, who had been summoned when their brother had passed by their chambers during the march out of the citadel. Bringing up the rear was what looked to be all of the guards of the citadel. There was nothing confident or good-humored about any of their faces and no one made a move to even acknowledge the gate guards' presence.

Just when it looked as if the head of the unsettling party was going to pass them by without a word or a nod Aragorn suddenly halted his horse and raised his fist to signal to the others to do the same. "You two there!" he called in a no-nonsense tone to the guards who were gaping up at him. "How long as you been on duty?"

"Since the middle of the night," stammered one of them in awe and apprehension. Being one of the youngest in his company the king hadn't yet before addressed him in such a direct manner. In fact, he'd never seen King Elessar, or Prince Legolas for that matter, so up close before. Normally he would have been thrilled at the opportunity but on that day there was something so frighteningly intimidating about them that he was too nervous to really enjoy it. "We were just awaiting our replacements."

Thank the Valar for their favors! "Then you must have been out here when a small cart driven by two older Men left the city a little before sunrise," concluded Aragorn. The guards nodded. "Good. Do you remember what way they went?"

"They went that way, sire – northwest," answered the other guard promptly, sounding a little bit like a schoolchild asked to recite some fact in front of the class. He pointed in the direction where the cart had vanished over the horizon line. Truth be told, he'd found it unusual when it had emerged from Minas Tirith – small wooden carts like that were known to travel about in the wee hours of the morning, but usually they were driven by peasant farmers from the countryside who were heading _into_ the city with petitions or on some other business. Still he had not stopped them from leaving, as he figured that he had no real reason to. Now his only hope was that his decision hadn't caused too much damage. "They've been out of sight not a half-hour."

"That's the road that leads to Ithilien," noted Legolas with desperate hope. "Ada and Gimli were waiting on it about five miles out. Are you certain that you didn't see the cart veer off in one direction or the other?"

"No, my prince," answered the guard with an emphatic shake of his head. Suddenly he was filled with an overwhelming wish that he could tell him something more; seeing the elf's exquisite features marked with such worry and ferocity made the guard want to do everything in his power to make all of that go away. "Just that way."

"They were still on course, Aragorn," Legolas told his husband, although he was more trying to assure himself of that fact than anything else when he said it aloud.

"And they're not too far ahead," replied Aragorn grimly. He had no doubt that if the two noblemen were truly at the bottom of the whole stalker business they would have left the path to Ithilien as soon as they were out of sight from the city. Still, they now at least had a solid direction to go in and that was more than they could have hoped for.

The king tightened his grip on the reins and felt his horse tense underneath him. Without turning back he shouted in a commanding tone for all to hear: "We ride the path to Ithilien! Follow me!"

The ground trembled as the slew of horses galloped their way across Pelennor Fields. Even though they all knew that they could go no faster the rode still seemed long, agonizingly long for all of the anxious horsemen. Each one of them were going over in their minds the last time that they had seen Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen, and wondering even as they tried not to if that was truly going to be the _last_ time. No one spoke, though, not wanting to give those dark thoughts more power by speaking them aloud.

Finally Elladan, who was prone to nervous babbling in situations that he knew were beyond his control, couldn't hold it in any longer. "I'm so sorry," he blurted out.

"For what?" demanded Aragorn sharply. He didn't need people giving their condolences about the fate of his children before they knew for certain that anything had happened to them! "There's nothing to be sorry about – they're _fine_. They're fine. We just – have to get to them."

"No, I'm sorry for not seeing that there was something wrong sooner," said Elladan fretfully, ignoring the pointed stare from his twin that was trying to tell him that now was not the time. "They were – they were – Eldarion and Laurelin – they must have been –"

"What?" wondered Aragorn a little irritably. "If you know something about what happened to my children you'd best spit it out."

"I don't _know_, but I've been thinking it over," Elladan offered up as an explanation. The situation was terrible indeed, for no one made any witty comments about his claim to have been thinking. He didn't like it; it was too shark a reminder of the seriousness of the situation when even Legolas with his sometimes bizarre sense of humor didn't even crack a tiny smile. "Lord Tanondor and Lord Eärnil brought us a small pitcher of water last night – I thought that they were just trying to be kind during a difficult situation, but now…." He shook his head to clear his mind of any distracting thoughts. "Anyway, Laurelin and Eldarion drank it down, every last drop, before anyone else could have some too. Then they fell into what I thought at the time was a deep, peaceful sleep. In light of everything else that's happened, however…"

Legolas grimaced as a sharp pain made it feel as if someone was kicking him hard in the stomach. Silently cursing the uneven terrain and his own frayed nerves he asked, "What? Do you believe that they poisoned our children?"

"Not _poisoned _but they could very well have been drugged," said Elladan regretfully. It would certainly make transporting them a lot easier. You know Eldarion and Laurelin – they aren't exactly the types of people who would go off peaceably with someone that they didn't want to and they'd be all the more unruly once they'd figured out that you and Estel didn't want them to be with the lords either. Now they're unable to do anything to stop it from happening."

Aragorn's eyes darted over to his husband when he heard an almost unperceivable squeak of distress. The elf was clutching at his stomach the way he usually did when he was distressed and/or worrying about their children. He'd done that before when he'd confided to Aragorn about his unease over the situation with the guards and the two noblemen; the Man hated to see it now more than ever because it reminded him of his failings. Well, he couldn't go back in time and undo his callousness but he could do something to prevent any more torment from coming to his beloved. "If you feel the need to carry on so," he told his brother testily, "would you be so kind as to talk about something else? Preferably not about our missing children being in a more desperate situation than we thought when we can't do anything about it! Can't you see how upset it makes –"

"I'm fine, Aragorn," interjected Legolas defensively. That wasn't technically a lie – the pain had passed so he really was fine. There was no way he was going to tell his husband about the odd sting; Elbereth, judging by the way that the Man was trying to protect him when he thought that just his feelings were hurting he didn't want to know what he'd do if he knew that there had been physical pain to go along with it.

"Are you sure?" pressed Aragorn.

Yes, if he knew about the physical pain Aragorn probably would have ordered him to go back to the city. Legolas hated to openly defy the king in front of his Men; since that would be what would happen in the face of such a demand he was better off not mentioning it at all. "There's no need to coddle me," the elf insisted, consciously moving his hands away from his stomach. "Save that for our children when we find them. We _will _find them, be they drugged or not and no matter who's responsible for all of this. We cannot _not _find them, Aragorn; that just can't happen."

"We won't," broke in Elladan, properly chastised but still unable to control his mouth. "I mean, we won't not find them; we will find them."

With Estel and Legolas doing what they could to chide Elladan for his blathering, Elrohir found something else to occupy his time: keeping an eye out behind them for the White City to fall out of sight. If he and Estel were right – and they usually were (_'even if we weren't last night when my nephew and nieces needed us to be! Oh, curse the enemy that hides in plain sight!'_) – the lords wouldn't risk doing anything too noticeable while the city guards could still see them, like suddenly veering off course. At the same time, if Lord Tanondor and Lord Eärnil really were planning to do something terrible to the children they would either want to do it right away – and the elf lord couldn't even entertain that notion – or else leave the path that the king and prince knew that they were on right away. It stood to reason, then, that they would have made their move as soon as they could no longer see the city. It was important to find that exact point before they passed over it; having so many horses trample the point of departure would inevitably mess up the trail that they would need to follow.

When all he could see of Minas Tirith was the very peak of the White Tower Elrohir quickly rode up to his youngest brother's side. "I would suggest slowing your Men down," he said urgently. "We're almost out of sight from the city. I would wager my life that we'll be coming to the point where we're going to find something – if there's anything to find – very soon."

As he was no novice at tracking (even though he hadn't done it seriously in a number of years) Aragorn immediately recognized the significance of what his brother was saying and complied with his suggestion. "Slow to a walk and be prepared to stop when I tell you!" he barked back at the guards as he did the same with his own horse. "We cannot risk trampling something in our haste that might help us locate the children sooner."

Legolas didn't need to divert any of his attention off of the path while he complied with his husband's orders. That, in addition to his keen elvish eyes, made it possible for him to be the first one to notice the ghastly sight that lay ahead. _"Stop,"_ he uttered in a tone that Aragorn had only heard him use twice before, once after he'd been poisoned and was asking the Man what he was supposed to do about eating now; and again when he had realized that he was bleeding shortly before Eldarion was born. It was the sound of horrified realization, when one knew without a doubt that something had definitely changed for the worse. "Just – _stop_. Ai Elbereth, no!"

He half-fell, half slid off of his horse while it was still in motion, not bothering to stop to regain his balance after the dueling movements caused him to stumble a little. He just charged ahead on foot for a few yards and then fell to his knees. "My love?" Aragorn called after him in alarm. "What…"

Then the Man saw it, or rather him or her: there was something – a body – lying on the path straight ahead of them. Legolas was putting his fingers on his throat, his wrists, his temple, anywhere that he could think of that had a pulse point, trying to ascertain the person's condition. Aragorn didn't have to conduct such an examination to be reasonably sure of the truth: given the number of people in their party and how close they'd come to him that person would either have to be dead or seriously injured to not to have moved out of the way as soon as he heard them coming. But who was it?

Since his face was turned away from them, the only person who could see it clearly was Legolas kneeling beside him. Judging by the look on the prince's face, the person in the road wasn't a stranger. Aragorn's heart twisted; he didn't want to know for certain but there was no way that he couldn't see for himself who it was. His body seemingly moving of its own volition the Man quickly dismounted and hurriedly stumbled over to his husband's side. He gasped when he saw who the unfortunate soul was.

"It's Lord Eärnil," said Legolas unnecessarily in a hushed tone as Aragorn dropped to his knees beside him. The lord's face was very pale, as all of the color had seemingly drained from it to the front side of his tunic. A large part of that garment was saturated with stark, angry-looking blood. The elf looked for the point of injury but his cursory attempts proved futile – it was hart to see exactly where all that blood was seeping out from in that sea of red. "Elladan! Elrohir! Come quickly!"

Seeing his brothers-in-law scrambling to obey him Legolas turned his attention back to the Man. "Lord Eärnil?" he asked in what he didn't realize was a frantic tone. "Lord Eärnil, can you hear me? Please answer me!"

Miraculously the fallen lord stirred when the prince placed one of his hands on the side of his face. As what had happened to him slammed back into his mind, Eärnil peered out suspiciously with his dimming vision. He tried to breathe a sign of relief when he recognized King Elessar and Prince Legolas and instead ended up choking on his own blood. "I'm sorry," he wheezed. "I didn't see what he really was."

"It was Lord Tanondor, wasn't it?" asked Legolas in a distraughtly resigned tone.

"He came to me about – about the guards," rasped Eärnil. He could feel his strength waning but he needed to speak, needed to tell the monarchs that he'd accidentally betrayed what had happened. "I – thought he was, was trying to help. He was my friend. I couldn't get – them away from him. Dear Valar, I'm sorry."

Aragorn looked sadly down at the lord. He really couldn't blame Eärnil for being fooled; he himself had been as well and he didn't have the excuse of Tanondor being a friend. "This was not your fault," he said earnestly.

"He said," gasped out Eärnil. "He said…"

"Shhhh," urged Elladan as he and his twin squatted down next to Eärnil and continued to dig through their packs for the proper healing aides. "Save your strength."

His advice came too late; with one final labored breath Eärnil's eyes rolled back, never to see anything again. "Hiro hyn hidh ab 'wannath _(May he find peace after death_)," whispered Elrohir as he closed the dead Man's eyes for the last time.

"He had nothing to do with it," said Legolas mournfully. "It was Lord Tanondor, and now my babies are alone with him. A good Man is dead and our children are in the clutches of his murderer!"

That final cry seemed to jar something within him and Legolas leapt to his feet as if the ground beneath him was on fire. "There's no time to lose, Aragorn!" he yelled right before a blinding flash of pain shot up from his stomach and caused him to fall back down.

"Legolas!" cried Aragorn, panicked, his arms flying out to support his husband. The twins were at their side almost instantly. "What's wrong? Where are you hurt?"

"My stomach – my stomach pains me; but that doesn't matter now! I can handle it until we find them!" Legolas fought to stand again but the pain was too unbearable to fight through. As he grimaced and fell back again he was horrified to see that no one was making a move to go on. Was he the only one who could feel time slipping through their fingers?

Unable to free himself from the twins' examining hands or Aragorn's protective embrace the elf clutched insistently at his husband's arm. "Go after them! Leave me!" he all but ordered before another terrible pain racked his body. "Dear Elbereth, this can't be happening! Why is this happening?"

To be continued…

_A/N: We'll catch up with the children and their kidnapper in the next chapter, I promise!_

_A/N: The line "Hiro hyn hidh ab 'wannath" is taken from The Two Towers movie and is actually translated "May **they** find peace after death." I looked online to find a translation to change the pronoun from a plural to a singular but couldn't find one that was available for my use at the time._


	20. Pain and confusion

Aragorn stood numbly in the all-too-familiar waiting area outside of the royal bedchamber in the Houses of Healing, too stunned by all of the events in the last twelve hours to do more than stare at the door that was preventing him from seeing what was happening inside. How many atrocities had he committed and caused lately? He'd basically allowed a complete lunatic to talk him into trusting him implicitly, enough so that the king had actually handed his _children_ over and let Tanondor remove them from the protection of the guards. Then he'd lied to and tormented several innocent Men while said lunatic murdered a good Man, not to mention one of his most trusted advisors, and took off with Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen to parts yet unknown. Faces danced around in Aragorn's mind, and not just those of his children. Lord Eärnil's death would trouble Gondor's king at some level until the end of his days.

Then, when it didn't seem as if the situation could get any worse, a strange and sudden illness had befallen Legolas. Aragorn didn't know if the horror of the circumstances were simply taking their toll on his husband's already stretched nerves or if his pain was the only the beginning of the elf succumbing to the grief of what was happening to their children. In a saner moment the Man would have known that Legolas wouldn't give up on them so easily but right then he was too horrified by the memory of his love keeling over in pain next to the lord's dead body to think about such things as logic.

Images flashed before Aragorn's eyes of his beloved husband wrenched over in agony, yelling at him even as he couldn't stand up to leave him behind to suffer through his fit in order to follow the still-fresh trail. The Man remembered staring down at the elf in his arms and never feeling so torn in his life; it shamed him to acknowledge that he'd had a very difficult time not following Legolas' instructions. After all, time _was_ slipping away; there were clouds forming in the sky and the Man could feel thatit was going to start raining bythe next day, which would wash away the trail. Yet to leave Legolas behind in so much pain was unthinkable. How was anyone supposed to make a quick decision about something like that? Perhaps that was the Valar's ordained punishment for him losing his principles, acting so dismissive to his family and loved ones, and becoming a ruler who couldn't think for himself: giving him the ultimate choice between losing the husband that was his life or the children that he couldn't live without.

In the end it was Elrohir who had essentially made the decision for him. After a few moments had passed, the elf lord had realized that nothing – no verbal response, no change in body language, nothing – was coming from his little brother. He'd given him a hard assessing look and frowned when he had noticed Aragorn's hesitation. _"Send your Men to track the children," _he'd urged. _"You need to stay with Legolas."_

"_I have already abandoned my children's lives completely to someone else's whims once today; you cannot ask that I do it again!" _Aragorn had protested. Surely his brother had to understand that – Elrohir had to have already known how much the Man had to atone for his mistakes!

"_Listen to me, Estel," _Elrohir had said firmly as he rose to his feet and seized Aragorn's arm. _"Legolas can't go anywhere except back to the Houses of Healing, where Elladan and I can examine him more closely and have help in getting all the supplies that we need. Unless you have some wizardry in you that I don't know about you can't stay by his side and go off at the same time. He needs you, Estel."_

"_I know," _Aragorn had said quietly, looking over his brother's shoulder to see Elladan and the three hobbits swarming around Legolas. His heart had wrenched when he'd seen his husband trying not to let a pained grimace overtake his expression. _"But he wants me to go after the children…"_

That was when Elrohir's expression turned from one of sternness to one of paternal exasperation. Aragorn had been struck then at how much his brother resembled their father Elrond. _"Of course he said that," _he'd scoffed. _"But that doesn't mean that you should listen. When was the last time you tracked anything more elusive than a deer or a rabbit?"_

"_It's…I supposed it's been years," _Aragorn had admitted, taken aback by the statement's reality. It had been almost a year since he'd even gone hunting.

"_You have guards here whose skills are fresh and minds can be more focused on the task at hand," _Elrohir had pointed out bluntly. _"The children will most certainly need their papa after they've been found but right now all they really need is a good and loyal person to find them. Meanwhile Legolas, though he may be too determined to say it, desperately needs his husband right now and as far as I know you're the only one that he's got."  
_

He hated to admit it but Aragorn couldn't argue with the logic and wisdom of Elrohir's words. Taking one more look at his husband the Man had sucked in a deep breath. _"Men!" _he'd barked out at the guards. _"As you all can see, the markings made by the cart are still fresh - they won't be for long and they will be washed away all too soon__. Track the trail – find the prince and princesses – take the _former _Lord Tanondor alive unless it's a choice between my children's lives and his. I – we – will join you as soon as we can."_

"Strider?" Pippin's tentative voice brought Aragorn back to the present, to that later point in the same nightmare. The hobbit touched his arm comfortingly while the other two gathered around them. "Is there…is there anything…"

"No," said Aragorn hoarsely. "You three have done more than enough already. If it weren't for you we wouldn't even know what was really going on. I would have completely alienated the guards; and the trail would have gone cold before I allowed myself to see that monster's deceit. I'm – I'm sorry that I didn't listen to your suspicions sooner."

"You can't go around making important decisions on your family's say-so alone," said Sam knowingly. "You…well, I'm not exactly sure how you go about making listening to everyone and balancing all of that against what you think is best. That's not really what I have to do when I act as mayor of Hobbiton, make no mistake about that. I don't envy you having all of that responsibility on your shoulders."

Aragorn let out a humorless and derisive laugh. "Yes, my responsibility to weigh the advice of others against my own feelings and instincts," he murmured self-loathingly. Almost two decades at the job and he'd gotten careless to the point of utter destruction. Sam probably wouldn't envy the guilt that came along with that either. "Valar, I've made a real mess of things."

"Don't say that, Strider," pleaded Pippin worriedly.

This wouldn't do; Aragorn suddenly know this with a fact. "Do any of you know where Faramir is?" he asked with sudden sharpness. It seemed that he had two choices before him again: to wallow in his own self-pity and worry his family even more until something miraculously fixed things or he hit rock bottom; or else to start doing what he should have been doing all along and actually _act_ like a king for a change. It wasn't difficult to figure out that the latter was the healthiest, most useful choice for everyone.

"He went to the entrance o the Houses," reported Merry. "Beren and another guard are there; they apparently found out something helpful."

"Go down there Merry, please; and tell Beren to come up here," requested Aragorn with quiet hope. "If he's found out something useful I'd like to hear it for myself. Tell Faramir to go with the other guards to – to Lord Eärnil's home; have him inform her as gently as possible as to what happened to her husband, and make sure that he lets her know that I send my deepest regrets and sympathies, and will be visiting her later so that we can work out when we bury him with the highest honor."

With a quick nod Merry scurried off. A few more minutes of agonizing silence followed as Aragorn continued to stare at the closed door that separated him from his husband and the two remaining hobbits struggled to find the words that could offer him some peace of mind. Finally Beren entered the room alone. "Your majesty," he greeted Aragorn with a bow. "We have discovered who the culprit – perhaps culprits – is."

"Tanondor," stated Aragorn definitively. The guard nodded, subdued. "He is the only culprit; Lord Eärnil tried to protect my children from him and paid for his bravery with his life."

"From what his wife told us that's not too hard to believe," said Beren. "But Lord Tanondor –"

"He has no title now," said Aragorn a little too harshly. "But tell me more about what his wife said – she turned on him, I assume?"

"More like she finally felt safe enough to not let her fear of him control her anymore," Beren told him, his voice still betraying the horror he'd felt when the poor lady had confessed to him her miserable tale. "He was – insane, abusive, and unpredictable. That finger that he left for Princess Laurelin? It was his wife's – he just came home one day with a potion he stole from here to keep her from screaming too loudly and cut it off."

"Dear Shire," breathed Sam, unable to comprehend such a reprehensible act.

Beren put a supportive hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "She is safe now, as are the servants in their household who were exposed to such violence," he continued. "What's more, she was able to tell us where he's probably heading. It seems that Lo – that Tanondor is obsessively in love with Lady Almarian. Ever since the news came that Lady Nienor is dead he's been consumed with the desire to 'make things right for her'. I do not know if he's had any contact with her or not, or if she's involved in any way; that's why I left the possibility open that there's more than one culprit. But in any case he's most likely heading to Dol Amroth to give her a new life, complete with new children."

"Of all the children in the city and beyond…why did he choose the ones that would be the hardest to get?" wondered Aragorn dully.

The guard cleared his throat. "He…he believed that you and Prince Legolas caused Lady Almarian pain with your love," he explained regretfully, not liking to be that madman's voice with his already tormented king. "The prince and princesses are to be compensation for that."

Aragorn muffled a wordless cry with his hand and bowed his head. As the others silently debated in their minds whether to comfort him or give him space Merry came running back into the room with his wife in tow. "I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner," the hobbit apologized. "Word travels fast in the citadel, as you well know, and our wives are wondering what's going on. Estella here got drafted to come and find out."

"We heard from the servants that Legolas was brought here," the hobbit lass offered nervously.

"Prince Legolas is the reason why you're here?" asked Beren in alarm. In truth he'd been too caught up in what Tanondor's wife had told him to think about why he'd been directed back to the Houses by the gate guards when he'd set out to find the king, beyond being told that the missing children weren't there. If anything were to happen to the prince, especially now…

Before anyone could tell him anything more, however, the bedchamber door opened and Elrohir emerged. "How's Legolas?" Aragorn demanded immediately. "What's happened to him?"

Elrohir's eyes darted to the rest of the people in the room. "Perhaps it would be better if all of you left us alone," he suggested before looking at the Man. "Estel, please sit –"

"Just tell me!" snapped Aragorn furiously before the others could obey the elf's orders. "They're going to find out soon enough anyway and I can't wait until they leave, and I can't sit down right now. Just say it."

"Legolas was pregnant," said Elrohir, weary and emotionally drained. "He was about a month along, which is why he didn't realize it."

Aragorn remembered that day in the Council meeting hall, the only time that he and Legolas had the chance to make love since before the twins were born. "Valar," he breathed. "All of this happened because he's pregnant?"

"Estel, he _was_ pregnant," said Elrohir mournfully. Aragorn's heart broke at the implication. Behind him, Beren lowered his head, Sam and Pippin clung to each other, Merry wrapped his arms around his wife, and Estella sobbed aloud. Elrohir's composure wavered and he bit his lower lip in an attempt to keep it together for his little brother's sake. "I'm so sorry, Estel. We did everything that we could but the baby was so young and the stress was so great…we lost the baby, Estel. Legolas had a miscarriage."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

The first thing that came to mind when Eldarion stared to come around was how rudely bright the sun was that morning. It was so intense that he could see it beating down on him through his closed eyelids. A strange thing to be sure, as he couldn't recall the hide-out chamber having _any_ windows, let alone ones that would let in so much sunlight. Then again he really hadn't been paying too much attention to what that chamber was like at all, being too confused and (though he would never admit it) scared to care too much about his accommodations.

He groggily moved his arm with the intentions of throwing it over his face and shielding himself as much as he could from the sun's glare and heat. Unfortunately the limb in question just flopped about, apparently unwilling to obey any commands when it was still asleep. Figuring that he must have slept on it funny the night before Eldarion gave his arm a little shake and tried to ignore the unpleasant tingling that seemed to be made worse by the movement. If only a little tingling was the only disagreeable after-affect of his attempts to wake up his arm; but a few seconds after he first started the movement he became _very_ aware that his shoulder was sore as well. In fact his entire body felt as if he'd spent the previous day riding a horse hard or endlessly practicing battle moves and sparring.

'_That's probably because this stupid cot is so hard,' _Eldarion internally reasoned, his mind slower than it usually was when he tried to think first thing after waking up.

A few more moments passed before Eldarion could process that _no_ cot in the royal quarters was as uncomfortable as what was making up his bed right then. What's more, the cot that he'd fallen asleep on last night was the same one that he'd been sleeping on in his parents' bedchamber for the last month so he knew for a fact that it wasn't _this_ stiff and painful. Placing the hand attached to the other arm full against the surface he pressed down. Whatever it was, it wasn't giving; the mattress was completely solid.

With as much effort as he could muster the prince rolled to one side and forced his oddly reluctant eyes to open and look down. He found himself face-to-face with…wood? He was lying on a slab of wood? And not even good-quality wood; the planks were sturdy enough but they were crudely assembled and obviously not well taken care off. So he fell asleep on a fairly comfortable cot in a windowless chamber in the citadel of Minas Tirith and woke up on a slab of wood with the sun beating down on him in what he was slowly beginning to realize was outside? How did that happen?

Eldarion moved his head gingerly, trying to get a better idea as to where he was without making his body any sorer. Thankfully he didn't have to look very far: lying so close to him that they could have touched noses if either felt so inclined was his oldest little sister. Laurelin's eyes were closed and she was very still – not how she'd been sleeping lately, with her nightmares and the way that she tended to cling to their ada and papa; had her chest not been moving up and down he would have been worried that she was dead.

"Laurelin," he hissed in a whisper. Eldarion didn't know _why _he was whispering but something told him that it would be a good idea until he understood the situation better. He laboriously reached out and nudged her. "Laurelin! Wake up!"

Laurelin sleepily tried to brush him away. "Leave me alone," she mumbled, still only half conscious.

"Laurelin, wake up," ordered Eldarion, an air of desperation lacing the edges of his commanding tone. "We're not in the citadel." He glanced up at the treetops that looked to be forming a circle around wherever it was that they were and told himself (not very convincingly) that it was all right that he didn't recognized any of them. What he couldn't ignore or rationalize, however, was hearing something that sounded suspiciously like flowing water. "Oh my."

The little girl's face scrunched up unhappily. "Stop it," she whined. Why did her brother feel the need to torment her so early? "Go away and let me sleep or I'll tell Ada and Papa on you."

"I'm not kidding around, Laurelin," said Eldarion a little angrily. The last thing that he needed right then was to have her acting like the little brat that she always was around him. "I don't think that we're even in the city anymore."

"What?" she asked, forcing her eyes apart to see for herself that her older brother wasn't just teasing her again. After several long moments of staring up at the trees and listening to the water she looked back at him, her luminous blue eyes shining with upset tears. "I don't know this place! Where are we?"

"Shhhh!" hissed Eldarion. "I'm sure that it's all right. I think," he wracked his brain, groping for answers. That was difficult to do, since it felt as if he were coming about of a long hibernation or an enchanted sleep. "Papa and Ada…they said that we might have to leave the city for a little while. Remember how they told us that we might wake up and be in Ithilien with Daerada and Grandpa Gimli?"

"But they're not here!" cried Laurelin in a frightened tone. "And this isn't Ithilien."

Eldarion couldn't argue with her on that point. "We're probably still on the way there and just stopped for a rest or something," he said more resolutely than he actually felt. After a few minutes of looking up at the trees in sight he still couldn't place them; they didn't even _resemble_ any of the trees that were on any of the paths that they'd taken to Ithilien before. Besides, even if it was true that they were still on their way they should have met up with their daerada and Gimli by now and it was difficult to believe that either one of their overprotective grandparents would let them out of their sights for this amount of time.

But the last thing that he wanted to do was scare his sister into being even noisier when he still didn't understand what was going on. "Come on," Eldarion told her. "Let's go find Daerada and Grandpa Gimli – I bet they're around here somewhere."

It took a great effort on his part but Eldarion somehow managed to force himself into a sitting position. Grabbing his little sister's hand he slid off of the wood – the _cart_, he realized, he and Laurelin had been sleeping on a poor-looking cart – that they were on and landed fairly gracefully on his feet. Laurelin stumbled as he pulled her behind him but didn't fall.

Eldarion's heart sank when he saw that there were no signs of Thranduil or Gimli or any other member of their family being in that small clearing that was so obviously close by a river. Then he encountered a far more unusual sight that made him feel relieved and oddly petrified at the same time: one of Gondor's noblemen – he looked vaguely familiar to the prince; he could only guess that they'd met in some sort of official capacity before – sitting on a log, cradling one of Eldarion's baby sisters in his arms. By his feet on one side were two baskets, one empty and the other one next to it containing the other infant twin. On the other side were several traveling packs that looked as if they held enough food for all of them for at least a week. Eldarion didn't know what exactly to make of his last observation; as far as he knew no one had been planning for them to camp out anywhere for an extended period of time.

"My lord…Lord Tanondor?" asked Eldarion tentatively as the older Man gently said the baby that he'd been holding in the empty basket. Yes, he was almost totally certain that it was Lord Tanondor, one of his papa's advisors. That would explain why he looked familiar – the boy had spent more than a few hours with the Advisors' Council learning princely conduct, though he never before had encountered one on his own. Aragorn and Legolas had always been very good at not mixing their official business with family life, so it wasn't as if any advisor had ever been invited over for a meal or anything like that.

Tanondor looked up, surprised to hear the boy's voice and even more so when he saw Eldarion and Laurelin standing hand-in-hand staring back at him. "You two are awake," he noted.

Eldarion could have sworn that the lord sounded disappointed. "Yes we are," he replied uncertainly as he unconsciously squeezed Laurelin's hand a little. The girl leaned into his side slightly. "Um, I don't mean to sound rude or something but what are you doing here?"

"I was just feeding your sisters," Tanondor told him with a content sigh. He smiled down at the babies, both of whom had drifted off soon after getting their morning feeding. "They were both so hungry, and taking care of that turned out to be more complicated than I thought it would be! First it took me forever to find their food in all of these packs and then it was an issue of who got to eat first. I'm afraid that I still have much to learn about minding babies but once there's more than one of me things should get better. Honestly, one needs help when there are so many infants!"

"Yes," repeated Eldarion for lack of anything better to say. That inexplicable sense of unease that had been growing inside of him since he first woke up reached an all-time high; suddenly he passionately disliked that Tanondor was sitting so close to the babies, that the lord had been _around_ the twins when there was no one else around to supervise. "Well, it's good then that there are a lot of people around to help out in Ithilien. We should hurry up so that we're there by the time that they're hungry again."

Tanondor shook his head distractedly. "We're not going to Ithilien," he said simply.

"Excuse me?" demanded the boy, perturbed.

"You heard me, Eldarion," replied the lord, apparently not liking being questioned.

"Did you just call me _Eldarion_?" sputtered Eldarion incredulously. It wasn't as if he minded being addressed without his royal title; but none of the nobles, wither they were on the Council or not, had ever called him anything but 'Prince Eldarion', 'my prince', or variations on that. He couldn't see any reason why that should change now, especially when there was already so much going on that he didn't understand. On top of all that he wasn't sure that he felt too at ease with the oddly acting lord speaking to him with such familiarity.

The lord in question just looked at him as if Eldarion had said the more profound statement ever uttered. "You're right," he said with excited earnestness. "I shouldn't be calling you 'Eldarion'. You can't use that name anymore – it simply won't fit now. You're a very clever boy, to think of something so important that I did not. Let me think…how about being 'Denethor'?

"Me…Denethor?" asked Eldarion dubiously.

"You're right once again," declared Tanondor with a definitive nod. "That name still sticks out too much; we can't have any of you children being very visible for a while. Let's see – well, is there any name that you'd prefer to have?"

This was absolutely absurd! Eldarion was getting rather angry. "I am Prince Eldarion Telcontar," he answered firmly, jutting out his chin in an equally proud and defiant gesture. "This is Princess Laurelin Telcontar; and those two babies are Princesses Meren and Gilraen Telcontar. Those names suit us just fine and we won't be needing any others!"

"Do not take that tone with me," warned Tanondor. It sounded to Eldarion as if he was trying to act like a parent and (in his humble opinion) doing a very poor job of it. "I am your father; it is up to me whether or not you all will require new names and I have decided that you do. I will not tolerate you arguing with me about this!"

"You're not my father!" shot back Eldarion, amazed and furious. Beside him Laurelin squeezed his hand even tighter, making his resolve steel. How dare Tanondor make such an obviously untruthful claim and upset him and his sister like that? "I am Elessarion, Aragornion, and Legolasion. That means, Lord Tanondor, that my sire father is Aragorn, King Elessar of Gondor, and my birthing father is Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, Ithilien, and Gondor. Not anyone else and _most definitely_ not you."

"Not anymore," declared Tanondor fiercely. Strangely his tone and the way that he was acting reminded Eldarion of himself when, a few years ago, he'd planned to spend the whole day with Findowyn and she'd refused to keep some previous plans with Faramir and Eowyn: like he had everything all figured out and he was angry others for ruining it by not going along. "I am taking you four to the Lady Almarian. She and I are your parents. I don't want you to mention the king and the prince again – you won't have any reason to anyway, as you will never see either of them again."

Laurelin let out a keening cry and tugged on her brother's arm. "I don't like this!" she shrieked. "I don't want to be around that mean Man anymore, Eldarion – I want Ada and Papa right now! I want to go home!"

"Go home – I think that's a marvelous idea, Laurelin," concurred Eldarion, keeping a wary eye on the lord. The Man was obviously insane; knowing that his parents wouldn't have sent them off with someone like that the prince guessed that they didn't know where their children were. No danger that was in Minas Tirith could possibly be any more threatening than staying in Tanondor's custody for any longer.

Still holding onto Laurelin's hand, the boy marched off to the side to where the horses were and grabbed hold of their reins. Tanondor quickly rushed over to stop him but Eldarion, never one to give up easily, refused to let go no matter how hard the adult pulled. He pulled his other hand free from his sister's grip so that he could use both hands to hold onto their best way of getting away from the crazy lord. As their struggle grew more intense the older Man accidentally struck one of the horses hard. The poor creature neighed, shook his head and reared wildly – causing both of them to lose their grips on the reins – and ran off. Of course the other horse and the cart were forced to go along too.

"Look what you've done!" scolded the lord, watching in dismay as they vanished. "Now we're going to have to _walk_ to Dol Amroth, as if that rickety old cart wasn't bad enough. How could you be so selfish, boy? Your poor mother has already been waiting for so long!"

Eldarion too was distressed about the horses' flight and too angry to be afraid about showing the person he blamed for it how he felt. "You are the one who's acting like a lunatic!" he yelled. "Anyone with half a brain would know that you are not our father and some lady in Dol Amroth isn't our mother! Aside from everything else, my sisters and I are all half-elves. You are clearly not an elf and, unless she is, that's that."

"You are not half-elves anymore," said Tanondor, his voice dangerously low.

"That's not something that you can just change," Eldarion informed him snidely, clutching at Laurelin's hand once more with the intention of having them both stalk away together.

"I can change it," countered Tanondor, pulling a knife out of his cloak.

Not just any knife; it was _Eldarion's_ knife, the very same one that the stalker had used to attack him with in his bedchamber and then stole. The boy stared, shocked and disbelieving, at it and dimly noted that the blade was too red – too _bloody_ – to glint in the sun like it normally did. If Tanondor had the knife then that meant…. "Elbereth," he gasped.

"The only thing that's overtly elvish about any of you are those tips on your ears," Tanondor went on, insanely calm as he gestured with the knife. "You won't be so half-elvish anymore once I cut them off."

Laurelin, who'd been helplessly watching her brother argue with the bad Man in growing alarm, then heard the strangest noise in her life: Eldarion actually let out an amused chuckle. He found this _funny_? Maybe the lord's craziness was catching.

Before she could speak, though, Eldarion suddenly shoved her aside, where she stumbled to a stop close by the babies' baskets. In a flash the boy had moved again, this time positioning himself between them and Tanondor. "You're not cutting my ears," Eldarion told him in no uncertain terms. "And there's no way that I'm going to let you go anywhere near my sisters again."

The mean Man who wanted to take them away from their ada and papa forever charged at Eldarion, his face twisted in anger as he held up the stained knife. Laurelin was too afraid to watch any more than that; instead she squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears so that the tips weren't exposed and so that everything going on was muffled. A few moments – she'd never be able to tell how many – later a horrible scream filled the air. No amount of coverage could have blocked it out and it chilled her to the bone. Seconds after that another cry, quieter than the first but filled with so much pain, came forth. He did it – she couldn't make herself look but she knew that the mean Man had really cut the tips of Eldarion's ears off! She was so upset about her poor brother that the rest of the word seemed to fade away…

A hand suddenly grabbed her wrist and Laurelin screamed.

To be continued…


	21. Fight for your life

When most people met him they took a great deal of time telling Eldarion about just how much he looked like his papa (as if that fact had somehow escaped his attention all of these years); when those who really knew Aragorn saw his son's eagerness to wield a sword they all agreed that the boy was indeed his siring father's child. That was true enough but what a lot of people who didn't know him beyond his physical attributes (and oftentimes even those that did) failed to realize, or at least mention, that there were also many ways in which he was his birthing father's son through and through. One of those ways happened to be was in the sense of humor: friends and family agreed a long time ago that Legolas had a frankly bizarre – often morbid and black, and sometimes inappropriate – sense of humor and Eldarion knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the spitting image of his ada in that respect.

This fact could begin to explain why Eldarion found it impossible to suppress his chuckle when Tanondor pulled out the knife that he'd stolen from the young crown prince and announced his insane intentions to remove what was in his and his sisters' blood by surgically removing a little bit of their outsides. It was entirely too bizarre for words: one of the Men who used to spend hours coaching Eldarion in the ways of courtly etiquette was now threatening to cut the tips of their ears off with the same knife that he'd taken from the boy's bedchamber after he'd used it to attack him. From this it was also fair to assume that this Man that this Man who was once a part of a crowd of advisors that had lectured endlessly about people's expectations of princely conduct had also left someone's _finger_ in his five-year-old sister's bedchamber as a morbid little gift, thus setting off the whole stalker business.

While the gravity of the situation wasn't lost on him by any means Eldarion could, albeit a little hysterically, see the humor in it as well. The son of the elf that had once reacted to the news that his would-be assassin put too much poison in his honey and had accidentally saved his and his unborn son's life instead of killing him by laughing couldn't help chuckling a little at the irony of the circumstances that he and his sisters had found themselves in.

Laurelin reacted to that out-of-place sound the same way that she would have if someone had poked her with a red-hot brand: by jumping out of her skin and shying away. The little girl was giving him the strangest looks and Eldarion managed to repress any more laughter before it could really frighten her. The way that she stared imploringly at him had suddenly made him very aware that _he_ was the only one there that Laurelin and the babies could depend on to protect them and he knew that he couldn't let them down. Quickly he shoved Laurelin farther away from the crazy lord and toward the babies. It would be easier for him to protect them if they were all together, right?

Steeling his resolve, Eldarion moved between his sisters and the madman. "You're not cutting off my ears," he declared in no uncertain terms. "And there's no way you're going anywhere near my sisters again."

Tanondor's face contorted with fury and Eldarion could only begin to realize why. He had his plans all nicely laid out until the boy before him had decided to act like a brat and he couldn't believe that now the _former_ prince was daring to stand there and openly defy him. "I have tried to be nice and fair," growled the Man, so angry that he could do nothing but stand perfectly still. "I've told you the rules and clarified them again and again but apparently you are so spoiled that you require a demonstration of the appropriate punishments before you can really learn."

"You have no right," glowered Eldarion defiantly. "Stand down, Lord Tanondor – that is an _order_."

That assertion of power seemed to break something in Tanondor – suddenly in fury-induced paralysis was gone and he charged forward. "There are consequences to disobeying your father," he hissed.

"You are _not _my father!" yelled Eldarion angrily, raising his arms up to repel the Man.

The crazy lord plowed into him with no finesse but a surprising amount of strength; it took all of Eldarion's elvish grace to remain on both of his feet. If nothing else the boy knew that the last thing that he wanted to happen at the moment was to get pinned to the ground where his movements would be limited. "Stay away – I'm warning you!" shrieked Eldarion, squirming frantically.

"I was going to be compassionate," seethed Tanondor as the tried to get a firm hold on the prince. Eldarion seemed to him to be part-fish, however: flopping about endlessly and too slippery to keep a hold on for too long. It was frustrating and sent the unstable Man further down his anger spiral. "I was going to give all of you the same herbs that I gave to my old wife; losing those horrid tips wouldn't have been painful. Now for you it has to be. Perhaps you'll learn your lesson about doing what your father tells you to do when your pain is blinding and I won't allow you to have any relief."

"I think I'm doing _exactly_ what my fathers would tell me to do, you hypocritical lunatic," retorted Eldarion nastily.

A wild gleam came to Tanondor's eyes. "Do as I say," he ordered, his body practically shaking in anticipation, "or else I'll make you watch your sisters receiving the same punishment as you are about to get."

"Bastard!" screamed Eldarion, lashing out wildly. "Traitor! Animal! Monster! Orc!"

But in his rage Eldarion lost his concentration on what he was doing to repel the madman and ended up doing exactly what Tanondor wanted him to do. Instead of continuing to try to pull away he propelled himself forward, putting him in close enough proximity to Tanondor for the insane lord to be able to seize one side of the boy's head. Eldarion cried out as the powerful grip pulled his hair and left bruises. "You'll thank me for this later," the older Man taunted, raising the knife to the ear on the side that wasn't being held.

Pure survival instincts set in and without thinking over what his next plan of action was going to be Eldarion managed to turn his head enough to get his teeth into the flesh of Tanondor's arm. The crazy nobleman let out a bellow of pain when the boy bit down so hard into his wrist that he could taste blood. The knife slipped, cutting the skin behind the ear but leaving it – and the tips – in tact. Most importantly for Eldarion in the immediate sense, however, was that Tanondor lost his grip on him, giving him the chance to move away.

"Think of that as your prince teaching you a lesson about being a stalker, kidnapper, traitor, and all-around bad person," sneered Eldarion mockingly as he disgustedly spat Tanondor's blood out of his mouth.

Beneath his confident and defiant exterior, though, the boy was less than confident. He may get in his little victories like that one but how was he supposed to win this fight in the long run? The only advantage that he could see for himself was that he was still young with the energy that went along with that; but it wasn't as if Tanondor was _ancient_ old. Beyond that, the lord, being a nobleman, had the benefit of what he'd learned when he'd undoubtedly received when he was trained with the other nobles with Gondor's army while Eldarion lacked any type of formal fighting training. On top of that, he only had to wear his opponent down while the boy had to find some way to make him stop his attack. Finally, if all of that wasn't bad enough, the older Man was completely and utterly insane, a fact which seemed to be fueling his strength while detaching him from the feelings that most normal people had about hurting someone else. Eldarion believed without a doubt that Tanondor could kill him, Laurelin, and the twins without feeling an ounce of remorse.

With nothing else to do, he braced himself as the lord held his injured arm and glared at him. "I did learn something," snarled Tanondor. "Shall I show you?"

He sprang forward; Eldarion automatically put out his hands to push him away and Tanondor managed to grab one of his wrists. The madman raised up the knife and once again the prince tried to ward him off only to get his other wrist captured and crushed against the heavy hilt of the weapon. After a brief but frantic struggle Tanondor moved and forcefully held both of the boyish, somewhat skinny, wrists into one hand, leaving the one with the knife free to do its ghastly work. "I learned to keep my skin away from your teeth, you uncouth little brat," smirked the insane lord.

Eldarion watched in wide-eyed horror as Tanondor raised the knife once more. Now, he understood that there were rules about fairness, honor, and gentlemanly conduct in a fight and he wanted to learn to be a good and noble fighter before contemplated being a devious one. But then again, his wonderful Ada and Papa admitted that rules could be bent and even broken under the right circumstances. Even they would agree that being about to have the tips of your ears cut off against your will would be one of those circumstances. No one would fault him for fighting a little dirty – after all, it wasn't only him that he was fighting for but for Laurelin, Gilraen, and Meren too.

Giving Tanondor the same look that a feral, starving, and desperate person would give a haughty stranger that was taunting him with food right before attacking said stranger Eldarion used one of the two free limbs that he had left – his legs – and kneed the older Man as hard as his adrenaline allowed him in the groin. Tanondor released an unearthly roar of agony, dropping the knife and grabbing that area of his body as he fell to his knees.

But even as Eldarion felt the sweet rush of relief when that bruising grasped let go of his wrists he knew that the lord wasn't quite defeated yet. Before Tanondor could recover, the boy plucked the knife off of the ground and stood over him with a nasty smirk on his face. "You would do well, young prince, if you followed the examples that we advisors set," Eldarion said spitefully, reciting the words that various noblemen had told him when they'd felt that he wasn't putting his all in learning how to behave properly. It sounded like good advice now.

Eldarion turned the hilt side of the knife out and struck Tanondor hard in the head. It might have been better if he'd stabbed the older Man, thus making sure that he could never harm him or his sisters again, but the boy found doing that too unfathomable and the opportunity to do what Tanondor had done to him not too long ago too fitting to resist. His anger, adrenaline, natural elvish strength, and the weight of the hilt ensured that he didn't fail; the lord gave another quieter but just as painful cry and fell to the ground unconscious.

The boy allowed himself a moment to catch his breath and revel in his victory. It was only a temporary win, however, and he knew it all too well: Tanondor wouldn't stay knocked out forever. Eldarion had to put enough distance between that Man and himself and his sisters as soon as he could.

Tucking the knife into his belt Eldarion stumbled at a hurried but weary pace over to his sisters. The babies were fussing a bit but there wasn't a lot that he could do about that at the time being. Laurelin was next to them, sitting up but curled into the fetal position with her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clamped firmly over her ears. He stopped in front of her and waited for her to respond to his coming; when she didn't do anything he grabbed her wrist to get her attention and she let out an ear-shattering scream.

"Shhhh!" Eldarion hushed her, half comforting and half scolding. "It's me. It's Eldarion. I'm all right and so are you."

"Eldarion?" she gasped, staring hard at him. What she saw was apparently troubling because she almost instantly burst into tears. "You're bleeding! He got you!"

Eldarion suddenly was very aware of the blood that was trickling from the knife-inflicted wound he'd received behind the ear. While it wasn't life-threatening – it would probably stop flowing on it's own in a few minutes – the little girl was well primed to be terrified of the smallest drop or red. "I got a little cut," said Eldarion soothingly. "Just a little one. My ears are all right – see for yourself," he added, cupping his ears so that she could see them better.

"Oh!" she cried out in relief before doing something that she hadn't done in ages: flinging her arms around her brother in the same way that she did with Aragorn and Legolas when they woke her up from bad dreams. What he'd done was even better than that, in her eyes, because the nightmare of what had just transpired and could have happened without his intervention was real. Eldarion was her hero.

The full weight of the task before him hit Eldarion like a sack of stones as Laurelin clung to him with a combination of desperation and worship. They needed to get far, far away from Tanondor and, while carrying two infants and as much supplies as they could carry, walk until they found some way to get back home. And they had to do this without depending on Ada, Papa, uncles, aunts, grandparents, guards, or anyone else – his little sisters would need Eldarion to make it all better. He had to be the responsible one.

"Laurelin," he said softly, gently disengaging the girl from around his waist. "Laurelin, honey, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to be a big girl and help me calm the babies down. Can you do that?"

Sniffling a little, she went over to one of the baskets and started to gently stroke one of the baby's stomach while Eldarion murmured soothingly to the other one. "What's going to happen now?" she asked.

"I'm going to get us back home," vowed Eldarion. No bravado was in his voice, only resolve. "We're going to follow the trail that the cart made. It should lead us to familiar land."

"Will we get back soon?" she persisted tearfully. "It's going to rain either today or tomorrow – I can see it in the clouds! The babies can't be out in the rain all the time! And what about the mean Man? He made the trail! Is he going to follow us?"

Eldarion cursed under his breath. He'd failed to take all of that into account. There was no guarantee that they'd be anywhere close to home before the rain started, especially if they were going to be weighed down with supplies and infants. He wasn't as concerned about exposing the babies to the rain as he was about the fact that the water would surely wash away the trail, making it impossible for him to tell where it twisted and turned. They could very well end up hopelessly lost. And how could he have forgotten Tanondor already? The trail would probably be the first place he would look for them; the older Man knew it better than Eldarion and he wouldn't have the extra baggage slowing him down. The boy did _not_ want to fight him again unless there was no other choice, especially when the insane nobleman would most likely be able to grab him before he could put the babies down.

"All right, we have a new plan," announced Eldarion, trying to keep the direness of the situation out of his tone. He hesitated for a moment as he formulated a new plan. "We follow the river – south. Yes, south. The trail that the cart made seems to be coming from that way so it's safe to say that home's that way too. There are always people and such near rivers, so we're bound to find _someone_ who can help us. Besides, now we won't have to carry a bunch of waterskins around with us. Come, Laurelin," he added when the girl looked hopefully at him. "We've got work to do."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

It wouldn't have mattered if his dearly missed father Elrond or the Great Enemy, Sauron, himself, or anyone else standing between Aragorn and the door that led into the royal healing chamber; at that moment the Man would have been capable of plowing almost anyone over without a second thought. There was no room for him to think in his role as the political ruler of Gondor, the great military leader of old, or as a brother, son, or friend – the only thing that was going through Aragorn's mind was the devastation that had befallen his family. His children were missing, possibly for good (though he refused to let himself think like that), and now…

Legolas had been pregnant. Why hadn't Aragorn seen that before? Hadn't his husband been unusually emotional lately? He'd just dismissed it as the elf fretting about the well being of their children. What a fool he'd been! When did Legolas _fret_ about anything without trying to do something about it? Not that knowing would have changed anything; Aragorn knew in his heart and with deep shame that had he known about the pregnancy he would have been even quicker to dismiss Legolas' concerns about whether or not the guards were truly guilty, even though only an idiot would believe that Legolas would be too emotional to see a possible threat to his family when he had someone new to worry about.

Well, he would have had someone new to worry about; but that was over now. Instead of having eight more months of pregnancy to look forward to and dread at the same time Legolas had a miscarriage. A miscarriage. Their baby was – was gone. Aragorn could barely comprehend this: there was no way that either of them could hope to save it because the baby was now beyond their reach. Dear Valar, why was this happening to them?

Using up all of his restraint in forcing himself not to throw open the door with inappropriate ferocity and passion Aragorn opened it without knocking and steeled himself. He saw Legolas there, sitting on the edge of the bed with Elladan next to him. His brother was speaking softly to him with his arm around his shoulder but Legolas looked too dazed to register that anyone was there. Elladan's head snapped up the moment that Aragorn opened the door; he gave the Man a tearfully sympathetic pathetic smile as he moved aside. Legolas just sat there with his head down and his hands grasping at either knee.

At that moment Aragorn would have given, promised, and sacrificed almost anything to have the words to say that would somehow magically make everything all right. "Legolas," he whispered as he took a tentative step forward.

"I was pregnant, Aragorn," said Legolas as if he were confused beyond measure.

It horrified Aragorn to hear him sound this way. He rushed forward to kneel down on the floor in front of the elf and covered his hands with his own. "I know," the Man said, blinking back tears and trying to keep the devastation out of his tone. There would be a time and place for that later, but right now Legolas needed him to be strong. "Elrohir – he told me; you don't have to go through it again with me."

"I'm not pregnant anymore," said Legolas as if he hadn't heard Aragorn at all. His voice was starting to tremble; he sucked in a rough breath and looked down at his arms. "But there's no baby here. I was pregnant and now I'm not but I'm not holding a new baby. Our baby's not here, Aragorn; she's – she's – Elbereth, she's" –

Legolas' voice broke off as all of the emotions that he'd been too stunned and drained to take in before finally came crashing down on him. Aragorn moved closer still and wrapped him in a protective and comforting embrace as soon as the elf's face crumbled. The Man could feel his husband's frame shake violently with sobs; a river a tears ran unacknowledged down his own face and together they mourned for their baby. "I know," sobbed Aragorn into Legolas' neck, unable to think of anything else to say.

"I didn't mean it," cried Legolas.

"What didn't you mean?" Aragorn asked him gently.

The elf abruptly pulled away from his husband, drawing his knees up almost against his chest and covering his face with his hands. Aragorn saw a bloodstain on Legolas' leggings and nearly broke down completely when he realized what it was and where it came from. "How could you not remember?" demanded Legolas, the guilt heavy in his voice. "When we made – when we made her I told you that I didn't wish to be kept perennially pregnant, but I didn't mean it. I didn't want this to happen, Aragorn, I swear upon everything that I hold dear that I didn't. I just want the baby – Elbereth, please, I want my baby!"

"Legolas!" exclaimed Aragorn in alarm, grabbing his screaming husband's wrists in an attempt to calm him down a little. When the elf stopped thrashing Aragorn took his face in both hands and looked him squarely in the eyes. "Legolas, please listen to me: this didn't happen because you said anything, either jokingly or in earnest; nor because you did anything wrong. None of this is your fault. Do you understand me, Legolas? You are completely blameless in this."

Thankfully, something seemed to get through to the traumatized prince; while he was still shaking a bit he appeared to regain some of his bearings. At least he wasn't screaming or thrashing around enough to hurt himself anymore. Aragorn was so absorbed in observing his husband's mood that he didn't hear Elrohir approaching until the elf lord had his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Estel," he said in a low voice that urged the Man to come with him.

Aragorn reluctantly rose to his feet and followed Elrohir a few steps away (which was the maximum distance that he could tolerate being separated from Legolas at the moment). "Estel, we haven't been able to talk him into changing his clothing," explained Elrohir. "I don't think that he could hear us before, but as you are getting through to him perhaps you can get him to let us" –

"What?" demanded Legolas sharply, rising up off of the bed with surprising speed and planting his feet in an almost threatening manner. "Let you what? Dispose of my clothing? Or else wash them? I am not so feeble-minded that I don't know what's on my leggings, and I tell you now that I will let you do neither! What is to you an unseemly stain is all that is left of my baby and I will not have them unceremoniously thrown away or washed as if she was nothing more than a mere blot on some fabric. Don't think that I won't fight you if I have to."

"You won't have to," spoke up Aragorn firmly, moving away from Elrohir to stand at Legolas' side. "Legolas, we will do whatever you think is proper to bury it" –

Legolas furiously jerked away from him in one sudden motion that nearly made Aragorn lose his balance. "Not _it_," he growled. "That was _our baby_ and a _she_, not some trinket that we misplaced! I told you that I knew I wouldn't have any more boys when the twins were born! She was a girl; she would have been a beautiful little girl…"

"Legolas," Elladan nervously cleared his throat, wondering if it was possible to say anything that wouldn't infuriate his upset friend even more. "Maybe – would you like for us to send for your father?"

"Yes," said Legolas shortly, glaring at Elrohir and Aragorn as he backed away even further. "I want Ada; _he_ will not be so callous."

Aragorn sternly reminded himself that it was the grief and not his husband who was speaking. "I wouldn't be surprised if Thranduil was heading for the city right now with Gimli," he said, silently recalling how the cart with the children must have missed it rendezvous with the pair. "I can have word left with the gate guards for him to come here as soon as he arrives. Beren will tell them; I was just about to send him to meet with the search party –"

"Is Beren here?" demanded Legolas. Aragorn nodded wordlessly. "Beren! Beren, come in here at once!"

"My love," began Aragorn.

"Do you believe me to be so selfish in my grief that I have forgotten about the jeopardy that my four other children are in?" snapped Legolas. "Or is it that you think that I'm too frail to deal with it right now? Well, Eldarion and the girls can't wait for a better moment and I will not wallow in any more excuses as to why I'm failing them. Beren!"

A few seconds later the guard appeared in the doorframe looking every bit as awkward as he felt. The hobbits, not seeing why they would not be allowed to enter when Beren could, scurried in from behind him. Merry and Pippin stood on either side of Legolas, forming a sort of comforting circle of familial support around Legolas while Sam sent both Man and elf a sympathetic look before standing in the space between the two. Even Estella came in, although she hung back a few steps away with an unreadable expression on her face.

On some level Legolas was extremely glad that the hobbits were there; however, his steely eyes never left Beren's face. "Yes, your majesty?" asked the guard.

"What have you found out?" asked Legolas tersely. "Don't you dare soften the truth, either, or you shall see what happens when I really lose my temper. Tell me exactly what you told the king."

Not daring to look at Aragorn to make sure what he was saying was acceptable, Beren croaked out his information about Tanondor's insanity, obsession with Lord Cirion's widow, the former lord's plan, and even the identity of the severed finger's owner. He bowed his head a little when he reached the end of his knowledge and Legolas nodded. "I believe that you told me all that you could," the elf declared. "Now your king has some orders for you. Aragorn?"

Aragorn suppressed his shudder at the coldness in his husband's tone. _'He is not himself,'_ he silently reminded himself. "You and the other guards who remained in the city are now to join the search party at once," he ordered aloud. "Just follow the road to Ithilien until the city is completely out of sight; there you will see clear markings as to where the cart veered off-course. The party is following this new path. And when you leave Minas Tirith, make _very _certain that the gate guards know where to tell Thranduil that Legolas is. I will not tolerate any misinformation right now."

Beren looked into Legolas' face and wept inside at the pain that the elf's strange intense mood couldn't cover. "Of course, sire," the guard nodded, and then walked toward the door.

"I have one more issue I need to discuss with you Beren," said Aragorn quickly. He crossed the chamber to where Beren had stopped and spoke in a low voice. "I will be joining you when the right time comes. Until then, I must ask you to be my spokesman and commander to the guards. Let them know that they are to capture Tanondor" – he said the name in a venomous hiss – "alive until the prince and princesses are found. _No_ excuses; we cannot risk losing that source of information while their whereabouts are still unknown. Once you have all four in your sights I don't care if Tanondor comes back dead or alive."

Aragorn was deadly serious. It was horrible enough that the former lord had killed a fellow noble and trusted advisor, and ad harvested pieces of his wife's body in order to terrorize a child. But now…now he was also responsible for the murder – not the _loss_, not even the _death_, or anything else that left it open to interpretation that what had happened had been an accident – of his and Legolas' unborn daughter. Whether it was at the hands of a guard during the hunt or after a formal trial (and either scenario had its advantages) Tanondor's life was over.

"I understand, King Elessar," breathed Beren as he turned to leave again.

"I'm coming with you."

Everyone in the healing chamber turned to look at Legolas in astonishment; he set his jaw and stared unblinking at the guard. "I'm coming with you," he repeated.

Forgetting in his upset his husband's current mood Aragorn started to protest. "Legolas" –

"No!" retorted Legolas harshly, whipping his head around to look at the Man and holding up one hand as if to ward off any contrary arguments. "I know what you're going to say and I know…I know that you mean well, Aragorn, but – but _no_. I'm going to join the search party."

"Legolas, we just lost a baby," said Aragorn, choking up a little.

"I know!" barked Legolas. "I'm very aware of what just happened, thank you. But physically I'm fine and I can't fathom staying here with nothing to do but obsess about it and worry myself senseless over what could be happening to the other children."

"You need to give yourself some time to recover," Aragorn practically begged.

The elf's expression suddenly grew colder than anyone there could remember ever seeing it as. "But you've gone through the same loss that I have and you apparently don't think that you require the same time," pointed out Legolas with the quiet sort of anger that made everyone feel about two inches tall whether it was directed at them or not. "So either you think I'm too fragile to handle everything that's happened, or else you think that for some reason I should have a more difficult time recovering than you – perhaps because you do think that what happened to our baby is my fault."

The room grew conspicuously quiet as a hurt look came to Aragorn's eyes. "I'm going," reiterated Legolas determinedly. "I'm joining the search if I have to crawl the whole way on my hands and knees by myself."

"It won't come to that," spoke up the last person that anyone expected to: Estella. The quiet hobbit lass stepped toward Legolas with wide eyes and a resolute expression on her face. "I'll go with you; between the two of us I'm sure that we can get a horse somewhere."

Aragorn looked to Merry – whether in surprise or to find support with another husband he didn't know – but the hobbit just blinked back tears and nodded to his wife. "Well, it would be best if there was just one coordinated search party," said the Man in concession. "If we're all going to go we should go together."

"Hold one moment," requested Elrohir. "First of all, don't think that you all are going off and leaving Elladan and I behind; however, no one is leaving until we examine Legolas one final time."

"Not now," Legolas told him a bit unkindly, not forgetting his previous anger with his friend and not keen on the idea of anyone touching him right now.

"Please, Legolas," Elladan all but begged as the healing woman Ioreth, tearstains on her cheeks, came in with fresh clothing. "If not for your well being then for Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen. You'll only hold up the search if you suddenly collapse because of something that we could have taken care of before."

"Fine," Legolas gave in reluctantly. "One brief examination; but if you try to keep me from going it had _better_ be life-threatening or else I will never forgive you."

To be continued…


	22. On the road

The morning had waned into afternoon when the former Lord Tanondor groggily pulled himself out of unconsciousness only to find that half of his face was buried down into a patch of rather moist terrain. He groaned and then gagged slightly when some mud flowed into his open mouth. Disgusting! It must have been one of _her_ tricks, that woman he married for the sake of appearance and in an attempt to continue on his family line. It was just like _her_ to do something like that; he'd suspected that she was out to get him for years. All of _her _timid quietness and sometimes frightened screams didn't fool him for a second!

Wait – wait, not "didn't" but rather "hadn't"; she _hadn't _fooled him for a second. Tanondor tried to force open the eye that wasn't buried in dirt as he slowly started to remember. He wasn't in the barren bed that he shared with his wife, or in that estate that had transformed from his childhood home into a mausoleum during his years of living death; why he wasn't even in the White City, which he'd once loved but now served as his prison. He'd left all of that behind – citizenship, respectability, his past, old friendships – and was on his way to Dol Amroth. There he fully planned to live out the rest of his days in complete bliss with the love of his life, the Lady Almarian, at his side.

There was no doubt in Tanondor's mind that everything would happen just as he imagined it would. He didn't care that he and Lady Almarian had parted under less-than-perfect terms – that was back when she was another person, Lord Cirion's wife! Now that Cirion was gone, he convinced himself, she wouldn't care that she'd caught him in her bedroom rummaging through everything that she hadn't yet packed. She would forget all about her harsh remonstrations and laugh about how silly she'd been when she wrote to him months later after discovering the tiny, insignificant trinket he'd taken so that he would always have a part of her with him. No, Lady Almarian had now had years to realize what a gigantic mistake she'd made in begging her father to marry her off to anyone else but Tanondor; she would now welcome him with open arms when he turned up on her doorstep. As a little extra insurance to make sure that nothing would go wrong Tanondor even had an extra surprise, one that would make him all the more irresistible: he could and would replace his love's ill-sired daughter with not one but four children of commendable – remarkable, even – breeding.

Children…children…just thinking about his brand new son and daughters sent a sharp pain straight into Tanondor's brow. Had he had any problems with the children formerly known as Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen? The former lord managed to roll onto his back and brought one hand to his forehead as he struggled to remember. Everything had been going so well; the babies had slept for the most part, the older two were wonderfully quiet and still – really, he couldn't understand why parents all over Minas Tirith hadn't flocked to the Houses of Healing to get their hands on that miraculous sleeping potion! There had been that regrettable instance of having to stab Eärnil but Tanondor refused to be bothered with worrying about it, either now or ever again. The past was past, after all, and he'd been determined to make it to his new home before any of the young ones started fussing.

It was a shame that hadn't happened. Tanondor grimaced as he recalled being forced to halt the cart when the twins had started crying (a dreadful noise, really; he resolved – not for the first time that day – to break them of that habit once they arrived in Dol Amroth, as Lady Almarian deserved to have perfectly quiet children). Whilst sorting through all of the packs to find the bottles that he'd marked specifically to be used on that day, he had been temporarily gleeful about killing his old friend – if Eärnil had really been so disorganized that he packed their supplies so haphazardly he deserved to be dead! How could anyone not care as much about order as Tanondor?

Throughout his trying ordeal to find the properly labeled bottles the babies had been no help at all. They had cried ceaselessly, caring about no one else's struggles but their own and demanding impatiently that someone attend to their needs. Tanondor couldn't abide by such behavior! Perhaps it would be wise for him to teach them that getting fed was a privilege and not a right; but later, when he had more time and freedom to focus his attentions on the momentous task. Honestly, King Elessar and Prince Legolas had spoiled those infants rotten when the children had been theirs! Tanondor could see that it would take quite a lot of work on his part of undo the years of damage and rid them of their rudeness once and for all.

'_There's hope yet,' _Tanondor reassured himself mentally, even though thinking was making his terrible headache worse. _'They were tolerable enough when they were asleep. They all were…'_

But there was something about that thought that felt so bitterly ironic. They were all tolerable enough when they were asleep? It was slowly coming to him…. Yes! Eldarion and Laurelin too had been fine enough to deal with when they were unconscious but in many ways they had behaved even worse than the twin had once they'd woken up. First of all, the very fact that they'd been awake before schedule had been enough to get on Tanondor's nerves. That shouldn't have happened; he'd taken extra care to make sure that he'd given them enough herbs to keep them quiet and compliant for at least a day and then groggy enough when they woke up that he would be able to drug them again without too much of a fuss. _'Its failure had something to do with the elvish in them, I suppose,' _thought the former lord irritably. _'I should have cut off the tips of their ears before I gave them the potion so that part of them wouldn't hinder the effectiveness of my potion.'_

Well, if there was one thing that Tanondor couldn't abide by it was people who refused to go along with his plans after he'd taken so much time in thinking them out carefully. It was especially true now, as it simply wouldn't do for his own children to go around showing blatant disrespect for his authority. When they finally got home to the children's new mother he would just have to give them all an extensive lesson in why they should sleep when their father wanted them to sleep. He could see that it would take considerably more work to teach the two older ones – after all, the twins had only been pampered to a ridiculous level for a little over a month while Laurelin had been catered to by the king and prince for over five years now and Eldarion for almost thirteen –

Eldarion! Tanondor let out a low growl that would have sounded very menacing if he had possessed the strength to not cough a little afterward. Thinking about that name had brought forth recent memories like they were water in a river with strong currents. That boy's behavior had been nothing less than abominable! First he'd been utterly disrespectful and ungrateful when the former lord had been nice enough to give him the opportunity to select his own new name; and then instead practically spat out his and his sisters' former monikers as if they were a curse and ordering Tanondor around as if he still had that right! Then came his perfectly awful fit, grabbing the horses' reins and forcing the older Man to strike one of the beasts. Thanks to Eldarion they now had no transportation for the rest of their journey!

Finally, finally – the truth was breaking through Tanondor's mind – that spoiled brat, that unruly child, that – that _Eldarion_ had defied him openly in front of his sisters. The former lord couldn't stand the idea of being publicly humiliated by anyone, let alone by his son with his other children bearing witness to it. Why could that ill-mannered little monster just be grateful to him for doing him a favor by ridding all of them of the past?_ 'Lady Almarian had better own a whip,' _decided Tanondor darkly, _'because I'm going to give that boy the lashing that he so clearly deserves as soon as possible.' _While he wasn't sure if such a punishment would work on one who was of noble blood, if it was half as effective as it was when he'd found himself compelled to beat the young servants in his old home it would do nicely.

But there had been something else…something else had happened; something to do with Eldarion that was making him think that the whipping wouldn't be enough, that he would also have to withhold the boy's food and water until they arrived in Dol Amroth. More of the haze in his mind gave way as Tanondor fought to remember. After his little show of defiance, the older Man had decided to teach that young brat a lesson. He and Eldarion had ended up struggling…and then came one great pain followed by another one – that was it! That hideous little orc had kicked him in his sacred private place – he'd better not have adversely affected his ability to sire more children or pleasure the Lady Almarian or else the former lord would punish him so harshly that in the end Eldarion would _beg_ for the whip and thank him as it sliced open his back – and then took his knife to knock him out. Of course, on top of all that the boy had continued to be rude and disrespectful to the end, mocking him with the words of King Elessar's advisors as he brought the hilt down on him.

The knife – where had the knife ended up after that? More alert now, Tanondor groped through his pockets and fingered his belt with growing desperation but he could feel it nowhere. With nothing else left to do he opened his eyes a little and scanned the immediately surrounding area, squinting through the painful light of the sun. There was no sign of the weapon anywhere. "Leave it to that churl to steal my knife," mumbled Tanondor.

He didn't need this aggravation; in fact, the older Man had half a mind to dispose of Eldarion right then and there – Lady Almarian had lost one daughter, after all, not a son; and presenting her with three girls to replace the one was still a generous gift. But Tanondor was nothing if not consistent, stubborn, and single-minded: once he'd decided the way that something should be there was nothing that anyone could do to change his mind. He'd made up his mind that Lady Almarian was going to get four children awhile ago and Eldarion would simply have to learn some manners. It would happen, too; Tanondor considered himself to be an expert on getting the unruly to behave. He was confident that soon Eldarion would be cowering before him just like all the other rude little servant boys that resided in his old estate in Minas Tirith.

"You are fortunate that I am not willing to give up so easily, _my son_," Tanondor spoke out a little louder, snarling the final two words, "and even more so that I do not have the time right now to properly discipline you. For now all you will have to endure is a hungry stomach and parched throat for the next few days. But so help me if you make it necessary for me to – Eldarion? Eldarion?"

That's when Tanondor realized how quiet it was – _too_ quiet, considering all that had just happened. There was no crying, no sniffling, no defiant shouts or mutters, not even the telltale shuffling that would let him know that someone was still around. With that unsettling realization the former lord finally conjured up enough strength to push himself up off of the ground. What he found when he was finally on his feet infuriated him: there was no Eldarion, no Laurelin, no Gilraen, and no Meren. The packs looked as if they'd been ransacked through and in the debris that surrounded them he could see that several items were missing. There were even what appeared to be shreds from the warm, expensive blankets that he'd brought along littering the ground by the packs as well.

Stumbling a bit the Man hurried over to what seemed to be what was left of his wonderful, perfect plan. "Those nasty, undisciplined, messy, disorganized, disrespectful, little thieves!" roared Tanondor furiously. Of noble blood indeed! Perhaps King Elessar had been lying about his claim to the throne all along, as no king or noble would be capable of creating children like that.

What made it worse was the fact that not only had they stolen for him but also they hadn't even had the intelligence and class to do it correctly. How could anyone, even with just a partially-functioning brain, not realize that he had a _color-coded schema_ going on when it came to the food? But apparently those children were shockingly stupid, as he could plainly see that at the very least one of the blue-marked bottles was gone while the other lay discarded in a heap on the ground…and the travel bread for the pink days had been taken while the corresponding bottles hadn't. They hadn't even stolen the right sort of supplies! Almost all of the waterskins were still there, scattered empty on the ground.

Fortunately he'd taken the time to work out in his mind what he would do if he found himself in this very sort of situation. Tanondor had carefully mapped out what would happen if the children had proved to be uncooperative and had somehow managed to run away. As he was aware, Eldarion thought himself to be a passable tracker; therefore the older Man had little doubt that the children under the boy's command would try to retrace their way down the cart's trail until they found something or someone familiar.

Thank the Valar that after that little setback everything now seemed to be working in his favor! If what he was currently looking at told him anything accurate Tanondor was safe in assuming that Eldarion was being weighed down significantly. He had to deal with two babies, after all; not to mention the many supplies, at least one waterskin, two blankets, and little sister that would be slowing him down. As a little added advantage the former lord knew for a fact that the water that Eldarion was carrying with him had already been laced with the sleeping potion. All he had to do was overtake them on the trail; and after a lesson that the fainthearted would call vicious but he knew was just firm they could be on their way again to their new life.

Tanondor never once questioned the validity of his calculations and assumptions. He was too certain that if one took the time to plan something carefully then one was always right. His entire world, his whole life, was dedicated to maintaining order, to the point where the things that didn't fit into his view were seen as annoying anomalies rather than the everyday things that kept people on their toes.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

By the position of the sun that cracked through the branches of the trees that sat on other side of the makeshift path Eldarion had to figure that he and Laurelin had been walking for a couple – maybe three – hours. According to his tired feet, sore arms, and aching back, however, he would have sworn without a moment of hesitation that they'd been on the move for days on end. With each passing step he was developing a deepening respect for all women and male elves that could and had born children.

'_I vow that from here on out if I see a pregnant person, or someone that has to fuss with small children, or really anyone forced to carry a great burden I will do everything that I possibly can to ease their suffering,' _he promised himself quietly as he shrugged his shoulders and flexed the muscles in his back in a fruitless attempt to get more comfortable and work out the kinks there.

Eldarion winced when his efforts did nothing for him but managed to jostle around Gilraen enough to make her make a noise in her sleep. He stilled for a few moments to make sure that she wouldn't wake up and then silently added: _'And if Ada is ever pregnant again I'm going to help Papa see to it that he doesn't overdo it. Papa was right about all of that: even if Ada was perfectly capable of riding and lifting and all of that stuff he shouldn't have _had_ to do it if this is anything like what Ada felt every day! Honestly, I don't see how he managed to move about like he did with so much extra weight, let alone fought to still be able to do all of that!'_

As if the pain that he was currently in wasn't enough, what made Eldarion's situation all the more unpleasant was knowing that even though he and poor little helpful Laurelin were loaded down like pack horses it still wasn't enough. It was almost enough to make him start laughing again: for all of the times that Eldarion had been so eager to grow up he never really understood all of what that would entail. When he had wished to be older he'd done so out of the desire to train with real weapons out in the open instead of having to hide it from his ada; and because he'd wanted Findowyn to see him as more than just the little boy that had always been the balrog's victim whenever they'd played together as children. Now he was, for all intents and purposes, the adult and all of the responsibility that went along with that constantly threatened to overwhelm him if he didn't take care to keep a clear head.

His first test (he didn't feel as if he could count fighting with Tanondor, as instinct had taken care of most of that) had come when the time had come to get him and his sisters away from the crazy lord. Not many people would have been prepared for the struggled that it had taken to pick through the supplies and to figure out what exactly a twelve-year-old and five-year-old could carry along with two babies.

_O – Flashback – O_

_Laurelin slowly moved away from the now sleeping Meren as Eldarion moved the basket that contained Gilraen closer to them. The babies were now sufficiently calmed, thank Elbereth, but the boy couldn't be certain how long it had taken to get them to that state. It had seemed like forever but thankfully the insane lord still seemed to be out of it. All Eldarion could hope now was that he'd struck Tanondor hard enough to keep him knocked out for a long, long time; still, it wouldn't hurt to make sure that his sisters were all gathered in one place just in case, right?_

_With one eye on the prone body that lay a few yards off but still too close to ease his mind Eldarion said, "Laurelin, start sorting out the babies' food and our food, too. Lay them in piles while I empty out the waterskins."_

"_Wh-what?" asked Laurelin shakily. She tried to look at her brother and only at her big brother but her eyes kept darting over to look at Tanondor. Frightened tears welled up as she stared at him and bit her lower lip._

"_Laurelin – Laurelin, look at me," ordered Eldarion in a kind but firm voice as he gently turned her face back so that she was looking at him again. If he knew anything he knew that he couldn't save them all alone and unfortunately for them both his bad chance at finding any sort of help was with his traumatized little sister. He needed to find a way to get through her fears and his first instincts were to relate the direness of the circumstances in a direct way while still relating to her on her level. "The mean Man is asleep right now and if he wakes up I will do everything in my power to protect you. But I for one think that it would be best if we were somewhere else by the time that happens. I would leave him right now but we have a few things to figure out before we can do that. What I need and the babies need is for you to be a big girl and help me. Can you do that, sweetheart?"_

_The girl, bolstered by the kindness in Eldarion's voice, swallowed and nodded. "Yes," she whispered._

"_Good," Eldarion told her. "Thank you so much."  
_

_Together they made short work of the tasks before them. Eldarion cursed silently at each of the seemingly endless stream of waterskins that he unscrewed and drained. Tanondor was really planning on keeping them for a long time, wasn't he? And he would bet anything that most of the water that was spilling out on the ground was tainted with the same herbs that had made him and Laurelin go to sleep in the first place. It was almost therapeutic to watch it splash down and know that not only would it not be able to incapacitate them anymore but also that dumping it would make Tanondor's life all the more difficult once he regained consciousness. Eldarion couldn't help spitefully wishing that all of that drugged water would run down into a puddle that would end up drowning the crazy Man; perhaps then they could have the luxury of waiting for help to come to them. However, that was just a mean-spirited daydream that gave him some way to channel his rage at Tanondor without doing it aloud and scaring his sisters; and soon he put it aside to focus on more important things, such as what was actually supposed to be happening._

_When he was finished with the empty waterskins Eldarion set aside two of them and turned back to Laurelin. "What do you have left to do?" he asked._

"_Nothing, I think," she replied, trying to sound as brave as he was. She gestured with a slightly shaking hand to the three stacks that she'd just created. "There are a lot of baby bottles, food for us too, and a couple of blankets."_

"_Where did those come from?" Eldarion couldn't help wondering._

"_I found them folded at the bottoms of two of the packs," explained Laurelin. "But there wasn't anything else hidden in any of the others. This is it."_

"_The rest of the supplies must have been on the cart," commented Eldarion. He wasn't sure if he should feel dismayed at the loss of things that might have been potentially helpful or relieved that his responsibility of deciding what they had to take with them and leave behind wasn't going to be any more complicated._

_The little girl nodded and coughed, her throat dry from crying and screaming. "Can – can I have some water?" she asked timidly._

"_I had to dump it all – it had bad stuff in it," replied Eldarion calmly. Laurelin looked scared and miserable. "Listen to me, little one: we are going to be all right. We'll get something to drink from the river once we set off but we can't afford to go all the way there and back again right now! Let's think of it as a…reward for working so quickly. Now, how much do you think that you can carry?"_

"_A lot," Laurelin told him, more because she felt that's what she was supposed to say rather than what she really believed._

_Eldarion gave her a small, wry smile. "Thank you," he said. Of course he know that the actual amount wouldn't be too much – being half-elves they were stronger than other, completely Mannish children that were their ages but still they had their limits – but at least she was willing to try. He wasn't about to discourage that attitude by countering it with something more realistic._

_He stared down at the piles and tried to sort everything – what they needed, what he could carry, what she could carry, how they would carry it – out in his head. "I'm afraid that we're going to have to load up on the bottles and leave most of the other food," he finally declared regretfully. "We can find berries and I can use my knife to hunt if necessary but these are the twins' only source of food and we won't be able to fit enough in the few packs that we'll be able to carry as is."_

"_We could fit more stuff in the baskets," suggested Laurelin hopefully. "Maybe we could pack some of it around the babies."_

"_They might get hurt like that, and there would be no wiggle room for them," Eldarion shook his head. Glancing down at his infant sisters he felt a surge of frustration. If only there was a way that he could carry them without them taking up both of his hands and so much stow space! He sighed and looked at the rest of the supplies. If only…. "Wait! Laurelin, Papa taught you how to tie a sling that let you carry your dolls around without really using your hands, right?"_

"_Yes," she affirmed, sounding a bit confused. "But it was for my _dolls_."_

"_I remember Papa having something like that for you when you were a baby," explained Eldarion, grabbing the two blankets with desperate, resolute enthusiasm. "When I asked him about it he told me that he learned to make them when he was a ranger, back when he spent a lot of time around people that had to move around all of the time. I never bothered to learn how to make one myself but you did – can you show me how, please?"_

_Laurelin nodded and dutifully recited the instructions as she remembered them, quietly at first and then with more confidence as she watched Eldarion follow them, making two slings. After cutting a bit off of the widths of the blankets and tying the most secure knot that he could into one he looked at his sister with a good amount of earnestness. "Tell me truthfully: could you carry one of the babies like this?" he asked seriously. "I won't get made if you can't and I can manage both of them if I have to but if we can keep them from getting all smushed together I'd like to do that."_

"_I – I have dolls that are only a little lighter," decided Laurelin. "I can do this – really."_

"_All right then," nodded Eldarion warmly, picking up the second blanket. "I need for you to lift up your arms and I'll tie it around you. Aren't you excited, Laurelin?" he added, trying to remain as positive as possible for her sake. "This will be your first time carrying a real baby."_

_After her sling was in place Eldarion set out on the painful task of fitting as much as possible into two packs and two baskets. First he loaded as many bottles as he dared into the packs, keeping in mind that one of them would be Laurelin's so it would have to be somewhat light (though, loath to have any wasted empty-space he added some of the less-heavy food for them into hers). Once they were ready he carefully lifted the twins out of their baskets and set them on a relatively soft bit of ground. Into the baskets that had once been their beds he set a few more bottles – not as many as before, however, as he could easily imagine his arms getting tired before his back did – and a few more packets of food for Laurelin and himself._

_When there was nothing left to pack the boy slipped his sling on, helped his sister into her pack, and placed baby Meren into her sling; his own pack went on next, then Gilraen was set into his sling, and finally he picked up one basket in each hand. "I think that's it," he announced with exaggerated cheerfulness. He glanced back over at Tanondor – by the blessing of the Valar the crazy lord still wasn't moving. "Ready to get that drink now, Laurelin?"_

"_Yes," said Laurelin, giving him a hint of a smile as they left the small clearing and headed south. "I guess we're all right now, huh?"_

_The babies had enough food for maybe four days if they were extremely careful, he and Laurelin had even less, and they were walking into part unknown with the potential of having a madman on their tails very soon. "Of course we are," replied Eldarion._

_And they would be – provided that someone found them soon. Eldarion's escape plan depended on that._

_O – End Flashback – O_

"Eldarion, Eldarion stop!" cried Laurelin suddenly as a shrill cry from Meren filled the air.

"What's wrong?" demanded Eldarion, rocking Gilraen as she joined her twin in screaming. "Did your knot slip?"

"No," replied Laurelin, sounding a bit horrified. "I think she's wet." The little girl felt around and made a face. "I know she's wet."

They didn't have any diapers; Eldarion hadn't even thought about that! And he couldn't exactly let Meren (or Gilraen, when it came to it) stay wet, as babies got sore like that and he didn't' have any oils to soothe that with him. "We…we'll have to stop and wash it, I guess," he said.

"But the diaper will take so long to dry," protested Laurelin uneasily. "She can't wear it before it dries, she can't go bottomless or else she'll mess up the sling, and the mean Man…"

Drat! How was he going to take care of this? If only Ada or Papa were there – one of them would be able to figure out a clever solution. _'What would one of them do anyway?'_ thought Eldarion. _'Probably think about everything at their disposal, from what was in their pockets to the shirts on their backs….' _"We'll pin the washed diaper to the outside of your pack to dry," he decided as a solution came to him. "For right now I'll cut up my tunic; that should be big enough to give each of the babies a spare one."

"Eldarion…"

"It's _fine_, Laurelin," the boy cut her off. "It's only temporary, after all. The four of us will be home before you know it."

Dear Elbereth, he hoped that wasn't a lie.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

The guards had followed the trail for about an hour before it ceased to be straightforward. Marks looking like they belonged to the same wagon doubled back on the original ones before veering off into a completely different direction. Was the former lord trying to trick them or had he actually retraced his trail so badly? They needed to follow both, of course, but they needed to organize themselves before they could do that. The most prudent course of action, then, was to set up a base camp and break into smaller groups, all of which would report back there to make the search more efficient.

It was at this impromptu camp that Thranduil and Gimli found them. "What in Mordor is going on here?" demanded the elf.

The group of guards assigned to stay behind and keep track of everyone's movements whipped around to see a very perturbed elf and dwarf glowering at them. "My lords!" cried one of them.

"Did you not hear me?" asked Thranduil testily. Anyone would have been testy after the night that he'd just had: waiting for hours on end for a cart or word that all was well, both of which never came; _finally_ deciding to head back to the city and happening upon strange tracks that looked to be from the cart that they'd been waiting for; following said tracks and discovering a group of people who were under suspicion for hurting his family planning…something. He wasn't used to being kept on a need-to-know basis and Thranduil deeply hated it. Tired and worried to the point of recklessness the elven king went on. "I am sick of waiting and knowing what I 'need' to know. I demand to know what it is that you are doing and whether or not your king and prince know about it!"

"They do," Beren's exhausted voice came from behind them. The weary guard dismounted his horse and bowed to Thranduil and Gimli before turning to the Men. "King Elessar and Prince Legolas will be here shortly. Have something to tell them; just…just have _something_."

"What's going on?" Gimli asked Beren. He and Thranduil stepped closer to the guard while the rest of them dispersed. "By Aüle, you'd better tell us! I can't take any more of this secrecy."

"I'll tell you everything – almost everything," swore Beren, meeting their incredulous stares with his deadened eyes. "The prince will tell you the rest of it when he gets here. He wishes to see you, King Thranduil."

Thranduil grew pale. "Something has happened to him, has it not?"

Beren looked almost ready to cry. "He's going to need you – both of you."

To be continued…


	23. No quick fix

The hour had grown late when the skies opened up and the rain started to pour down. The guard Mardil turned his face up toward the falling water, imagining that it was fate spitting on him and his scouting party's efforts, before staring down the path that they'd been following. This was one of the trails that might possibly be able to lead them to the kidnapped crown prince and princesses; the very same one that was now being compromised and would very quickly be washed away by the downpour. "No," he groaned, not wanting to see what was happening happen but unable to make himself close his eyes. "No! If there is any mercy in Middle-earth, grant us one more hour. I beg you, one more hour please!"

His second-in-command gave him a stubbornly optimistic look. "It's not over with yet," he reminded Mardil with steely hopefulness. "The rest of the scouts haven't reported back yet. They may have found something!"

"If anyone had found anything of use they would have shouted it so loudly that the hobbits of the Shire would be sending us polite but pointed notes to keep our voices down," countered Mardil, clearly frustrated. He defiantly shook his fist at the darkening sky. "And now we have this – this _treachery_ to contend with. The trails will be destroyed entirely."

"Calm yourself! The weather is not treacherous, nor is it favorable – it just _is_ what it is, regardless of the wishes of Men, elves, dwarves, and hobbits," replied the other Man wisely. "Do not blame it for the Lo – for Tanondor's treason."

"I would blame him were he here for me to blame," said Mardil.

"I know," said the second-in-command quietly. He sighed as he felt himself get more and more drenched with rain. "I do hope that the scouts return shortly! It would be awful to have to search for them as well as Prince Eldarion and the girls if they turned up missing too."

"I certainly wouldn't be looking for them," grumbled Mardil, feeling understandably cranky as the droplets – yet another obstacle between them and the children – continued to make its presence known. "They should know better than to depend solely on the soil to help them keep track of an unstable path. I for one refuse to divert my attention from my pressing duty in order to seek out a bunch of grown Men who should be smarter than that."

Fortunately for all of them, the scouts began reporting back to Mardil with in a few minutes of the guard's declarations of intended abandonment should they lose their ways. Each of their stories were mostly the same: there was a strong (at least until the rain came) and distinct trail that was obviously made by Tanondor's cart cutting across the lands but it had failed to yield up any additional clues as to the whereabouts of Eldarion, Laurelin, Meren, and Gilraen. The markings of the cart's wheels stretched out before them as far as their eyes could see but the cart itself had yet to be found. Their search of this area had been completely exhausted with nothing to show for it and there was no point in going on further now that the trail was becoming unreliable.

None of this news was to Mardil's liking. "This will not do," he announced grimly. "I have word from Beren that the king and prince will be at the base camp by the time that we return. From what little he's told anyone I must surmise that they are very distraught over all that's happened. He ordered us to have some type of news to tell them and I cannot bear for it be _'trail's gone, nothing learned'_ from us."

"It could be that the only reason why we haven't found anything is because the other scouting party _has_," pointed out Túrin, one of the youngest of the scouts. What he lacked in years and stature, however, he made up for in determination and optimism. "What's to say that Tanondor didn't retrace his steps and follow the opposite trail? The others might have already found the prince and princesses as we speak."

"I agree," spoke up the second-in-command kindly. "And since there's nothing more that we can do here, may I suggest going back to see if that theory is correct now?"

Mardil hesitated. "One more sweep of the area," he declared as the rain plastered his hair to his head. The other Men looked slightly discouraged and he let out a deep breath. "Just one more, to ease my mind and not make me a liar when I tell King Elessar and Prince Legolas that we did all that we can do."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Túrin flashed a fellow guard a grateful smile as the Man kept him from falling on his face in the fresh mud. "Thanks," said the young guard.

"What?" shouted the other Man over the sound of the pouring rain.

"I said thank you!" yelled Túrin. "By the Valar, I didn't see that puddle!"

"It's a wonder that anyone can see or hear anything in this!" interjected their scouting group's designated leader. He did a cursory glace of the area where they were gathered, shook his head, and turned back to his Men, peering out at them from behind water droplets and soaked hair. "We can do no more good out here. We must go back!"

The rest of the guards nodded gratefully and murmured their agreement but Túrin bit his lower lip. "Sir, if I may," he said, rather embarrassed by the request he was making (even though it was fast becoming a _necessity_). "I have…business to take care of before we ride so far…"

"Go find a tree," ordered the leader, understanding but exasperated. "We'll wait for you here. Don't wander too far off, though, because we don't have the time to look for you!"

"Thank you, sir," said Túrin profusely, spinning on his heels and heading for a more heavily wooded and secluded area. It didn't take him long to find something that suited his purposes. Letting out a relieved sigh he positioned himself and went about his business.

He was just straightening up his trousers when a strange noise rang in his ears. _'Odd,' _thought Túrin, but he figured that it was just the wind and the rain breaking small branches off of the trees and brush.

Then…_'there it is again!'_ he realized, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the rustling noise. There was no mistaking it now: someone was out there, moving closer to him.

'_The children!'_ was the first thought that came to Túrin's mind. However, he almost immediately had to discount that: it sounded like only one person and he refused to believe that any of the king and prince's scions would abandon each other, except in death. Nor could he assume that it was another member of his scouting party, as he hadn't been gone _that _long. So who was traipsing about in that awful weather? Túrin didn't know but he was suddenly feeling very exposed. Deftly he crouched down closer to the tree and discreetly started scanning the area.

An eerie silence fell upon him and the hair on the back of the young guard's neck stood on end. It felt like – like someone was standing behind him…. _"Finally!" _roared a furious voice as a large mass – a body – slammed itself into Túrin, knocking him forward. Hands were trying to restrain him, trying to pin him to the earth. "Foolish boy, attempting to run away from me! Just you wait until I get you alone with a whip, Eldarion" –

"Eldarion?" gasped Túrin. It was – it had to be – the former noble Tanondor who was attacking him! A surge of rage rushed through him and the guard expertly pushed Tanondor off of him, pinning _him_ to the ground on his back and holding him in place with a hand on the throat. "And what were you planning to do to my prince with that whip?"

Tanondor's eyes widened as he gaped at the figure over him. He'd seemed smaller from behind and had hair the same length as that of the wayward boy so the former lord had just lunged forward without question. He certainly hadn't bargained on having to deal with an irate and well-trained young Gondorian but he was confident enough to believe that he could talk his way out of the situation. "Unhand me," Tanondor ordered importantly. "I am a lord of the realm of Gondor on an errand given to me personally by King Elessar."

"I think that murder and kidnapping nullifies any task that he had for you," sneered Túrin. "Now where are the prince and princesses?" When Tanondor tightened his mouth the young Man responded by tightening his grip. "I said: where are they?"

"I will answer no questions from the likes of you," scoffed Tanondor distastefully. "I am a nobleman and you are nothing but a lowly peon."

"Things change, _Tanondor_," taunted Túrin, smirking at how angrily red the disgraced lord's cheeks got when he left out that old title. "But still, you're right: why should you answer my questions when King Elessar and Prince Legolas have many for you too?"

With a malicious glint in his eyes Túrin let out a piercing whistle that he knew would carry over the sound of the rainstorm. Moments later the rest of the Men from their scouting party offshoot appeared, each one of them skidding to a halt and gaping when they saw who their colleague had in his custody. "Well, well – greetings to you, my good ex-lord," said the leader at length with scornful, exaggerated, and insincere politeness. "There are many people who wish to have a word with you."

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

Right off of the place where the guards had discovered the two diverging paths hours earlier sat a small gathering of tents. Their presence at the makeshift camp that the Men had established there was the Elladan and Elrohir's doing; once they, a wound-up Legolas, a confused-but-struggling-to-be-strong Aragorn, and the four hobbits had come across the guards and the dilemma of the trails they had delicately suggested going back to the city to get some sort of shelter before the rain started. Aragorn, his eyes never leaving his husband who was speaking to Thranduil and Gimli, had made some sort of noise that they'd interpreted as consent. By the time that they'd returned on their speedy elven horses Gimli was blubbering, Thranduil was ignoring the tears that were streaming down his face as he tried to comfort his son, and Legolas was still standing there with them even as his eyes were darting between the two paths as if he was trying to divine which one would lead him to his children.

The guards who were manning the camp had met the twins as they returned, anxious to do _something _more active and unwilling to burden their king and prince with menial labor in the face of so much tragedy. With Elladan, Elrohir, and the hobbits pitching in the tents were hastily assembled and raised in a tight circle formation. Thranduil, believing that Legolas needed to be out of the Men's sight before he could truly deal with his grief, had immediately escorted his son into the one for the royal couple and the rest of the family, lacking anything better to do, had followed, just a short time before the rain had begun to fall.

Aragorn now listened to the sound of raindrops cascading onto the tent-top; had he had the energy to do so he would have grimaced. The water was washing away the trails – soon it wouldn't matter which one his children were down because there would be nothing to follow. It felt as if the Valar were mocking him, tossing out more obstacles and increasing all of their grief with a malicious glee that he never before would have thought them capable of.

Then again, perhaps the Valar were grieving with them and finding it impossible to hold back their tears. Maybe they felt that they needed to cry enough for them and for Legolas too. Aragorn stared wearily across the tent to where his husband was sitting as his sense of helplessness grew exponentially. _'Please,' _he begged. _'Please just let me find a way to make this better for him. I cannot bear to see him like this.'_

In all of the years that they'd known each other Aragorn had never seen Legolas behaving in such a…_cold_ way. In the past the elf had often been reserved, heeding his court training and not revealing too much about himself to many people; quiet when he felt that he needed to be; sullen and snippy, especially when he was angry at Aragorn and trying to control it; even devastated and downtrodden on a few occasions, such as when Mithrandir had fallen in Moria and when he'd found out that he'd been poisoned while pregnant with Eldarion; but never once had he acted even remotely like he was now. Thranduil was weeping and cradling his son's head against his shoulder, planting comforting kisses into his hair and Legolas was just staring out at nothing. If Aragorn was to guess how the elf was feeling at the moment he'd have to say that he was, well, _irritated _with the display of consolation and love.

'_Did something break inside of him when our child died?' _wondered Aragorn. If so, was there any way that he could fix it or would his dear husband stay permanently broken? The king couldn't stand the thought of having the person who was his love be nothing more than a shell for the rest of their existence. It would be worse than losing him to death because there would always be that tiny bit of hope that a miracle would happen to restore him repeatedly getting crushed in the face of reality.

Time dragged on as the hobbits huddled together for warmth and support, the twins waited outside with the guards on watch, Aragorn stared at his husband and brooded, and Legolas dealt with Thranduil's embraces and Gimli clutching at his hand. Then a chorus of excited shouts coming from outside jarred them out of their stupors. "What are they saying?" wondered Pippin.

"It's all jumbled up, with so many of them talking all at once," noted Sam, "but something's got them all in an uproar. I can go out and see what it is if you'd like, Strider."

"There's no need for that," Legolas replied for his husband as he unceremoniously pulled himself out of his father's arms and jerked his hand free from Gimli's. "Someone's coming; I can hear him."

Sure enough, not five seconds later the tent flap was thrown open and the guard Mardil entered without permission. "My king! My prince!" he cried, too full of fierce excitement and triumph to care about his breech in protocol. He stood before them and everyone could see how flushed his cheeks were from running and how badly his hands were shaking. "Our scouting party – we found him!"

"Which him?" asked Aragorn cautiously, not sure if he should be hoping that the answer was Tanondor or Eldarion.

"Tanondor, sir," replied Mardil, pausing between the words to spit after speaking the former lord's name. "He was all full of it too, attacking one of my Men without provocation; but it didn't take much for us to give him what-for. We brought him back to camp as soon as he was subdued."

"What" –

"Where are my children?" demanded Legolas, interrupting Aragorn as he stormed over to where his husband and the guard were standing. "Were they with him? Did you see any sign of them?" His expression darkened when Mardil, caught off-guard at his uncharacteristic blatant aggression, didn't say anything immediately. "Damn it, I asked you something!"

Aragorn gently placed his hands on either of Legolas' shoulders; he'd hoped that would calm him down a little but it only made the elf tense even more. "I want to know where my children are," snapped Legolas, shrugging the hands off. "That's not an unreasonable question…"

"We don't know, my prince," spoke up Mardil apologetically. Through Legolas' anger the Man could plainly see flickers of desperation and anguish in his eyes. He couldn't imagine what it was like to not know where his children were; and according to talk among the Men that he'd only heard in passing on his way to find the royal couple the reason for the prince's collapse that morning had not been good. As happy as he was to have some helpful news to report Mardil couldn't help but wish that he had something more. "They weren't with him and he refuses to tell us _anything_, let alone something that might help us locate them."

"Nothing?" pressed Aragorn.

"Nothing explicit," answered Mardil, withering a little under Legolas' persistent and icy stare. "However, according to the guard that he first attacked, Tanondor did indicate that Prince Eldarion at least had managed to escape him. From that and where we came across him on the trail I would guess that he was back-tracking; but we found no sign of the prince or princesses either with him or on the path."

"Thank you," said Aragorn grimly, his mind racing to many terrible places as he tried to figure out what this new information meant. He could dare to hope that his children had gotten away from their captor, but where were they now? In that awful storm? Did they have enough to eat or drink? Was the rain washing away whatever trail they were following, rendering them hopelessly lost?

Unfortunately, everything that he now knew was still too fragmented to piece together anything coherent. What he – and everyone else – needed was more complete answers and finally there was someone at the camp who could give them to him. "Escort Tanondor in here," he ordered, practically growling. "I will conduct a…private interrogation and he _will_ cooperate."

An intense gleam came to Mardil's eyes. "Yes, King Elessar," he said promptly. While he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that he obviously wasn't going to get to witness what was about to happen he still got a spiteful thrill at the thought of it. Had _he _done anything as wicked as kidnapping the royal children the last people he'd want to face was their parents and family, especially when no one within screaming distance would so much as lift a finger to save him from their wrath. "I will bring him at once."

True to his word Mardil left and returned a few seconds later, followed closely by Tanondor. The once proud lord was covered with mud, his hair was snarled, his hands were tied behind his back, and he was being led about by a rope that had been tied around his neck as a leash. Obviously the guards who'd captured him had taken pains to see him humbled and humiliated; and Aragorn would have been inclined to chuckle had Legolas not made a move to charge at the sight of him.

"What have you done with them?" the elf growled furiously. "Tell me now!"

"Mardil, tie that traitor's leash to something secure and leave," ordered Aragorn as he grasped Legolas' arms in order to stay him. He could feel his husband's skin bristle at the touch but he refused to let himself be shaken off this time.

Legolas barely managed to control his urge to violently free himself from Aragorn's hold until after the guard had left. While the tent flap was still rustling he moved with lightening speed, pushing his husband with so much force that Aragorn stumbled back. "You heard me," he said threateningly. "Where are my children?"

"You don't have any children anymore," replied the fallen ex-lord in a calm and simple tone, too assured of his own righteousness to fully appreciate the situation that he was in. "You have betrayed the Lady Almarian and you have betrayed your own nature by doing something that hurt another. I know that you are better than that; the Valar do as well, and it was they who took them from you as payment for your misdeeds."

All the color drained from the elf's face, leaving it deathly pale. He stood absolutely still as he stared at Tanondor with a mixture of fury, horror…was that guilt that Aragorn was seeing as well? "You don't know what you're talking about, you insane viper," hissed Legolas.

The corners of the bound Man's mouth turned up slightly, breaking Legolas out of his stillness. In less than a second he sprang forward in an enraged fit and grabbed hold of Tanondor. "You are not the Valar!" he roared. "It is not up to you who get to have children and who doesn't!"

"My love!" shouted Aragorn, jumping into the fray to pull Legolas away from Tanondor before he knocked out or killed the Man, or hurt himself in the process. He got kicked in the leg and an elbow grazed his cheek but he managed to get the elf into a restraining embrace before too much damage was done. Legolas roughly jerked himself free but thankfully did not attack again.

"He is insane," declared Tanondor stupidly, nodding his head toward the glaring elf prince.

"Isn't it ironic how you can see something in others that isn't there when you refuse to see what is there in yourself?" asked Aragorn pointedly. Pulling himself totally together to play the role of the confident and in-control monarch, he crossed his arms and smirked nastily at the Man. "You've really stuck your foot in it, Tanondor. As a member of the Council you should know that I have little mercy inside for those who seek to harm the people that I love; my husband has chosen to advocate for a few of them in the past but it's not hard to see that you will not be one of them."

"I do not need mercy from either you or him," retorted Tanondor.

"If you truly believe that then you are a fool," declared Aragorn. "There is no way that you can talk or trick your way out of your punishment, and I have stripped you of the title that you might have looked to for protection. There is only one way that you can do anything to save your own skin right now, and that is cooperating with us fully and helping us to find the prince and princesses."

Tanondor looked him squarely in the eyes and Aragorn was unsettled to see that there was not the slightest hint of apprehension in them. "I know nothing of the prince and princesses that you speak of," the ex-lord said in a maddeningly steady tone. "I spent the day traveling with my four children. We were traveling out of Minas Tirith to get away from their former caretakers, who have been terribly spoiled them."

"You – you _nazgul_," seethed Legolas, leaping forward once more. Aragorn put out his hand but the elf shoved it away and seized Tanondor by the hair mercilessly. "If you ever refer to my children as yours again I'll see to it that _I'm_ the one who administers your punishment; and I swear upon all that I hold dear that I'll make every second, every minute, every hour, every _day_ of it hideously unbearable."

Tanondor's head recoiled a bit when Legolas suddenly let go, but other than that seemed to be unfazed still. "So you're planning on locking me into some dark, filthy, cold, and barren cell and throwing away the key," he stated in a bored voice. "What of it, really? If you knew anything about my life as it has been and my marriage you would know that I am not unfamiliar with any of those concepts. I fail to see what difference it would make having you as my jailor instead of that disobedient shrew of a wife of mine."

Aragorn let out a humorless laugh that sent a chill to almost everyone's blood. "You seem to have forgotten, or else have utterly dismissed, the fact that you have blood on your hands," he reminded the former lord harshly. "We _know_ what you have done, Tanondor, and even a lifetime in the worst cell of Gondor wouldn't be sufficient enough punishment to begin to atone. There still must be a trial yet but as your judge I happen to know that unless something miraculous happens you are going to be executed."

"Executed?" A hint of fear crept into Tanondor's expression. While he disliked his life as it had been immensely but to lose _all _possible lives completely frightened him to his core. Clarity fought its way through the insane haze that had clouded his mind and he suddenly realized that it didn't matter if he'd renounced his connections to Gondor if the king and prince of the most powerful realm in Middle-earth had him in their custody.

"You're not so defiant anymore, are you?" taunted Aragorn.

"No…no, you can't execute me," said Tanondor dimly. "I haven't…you can't."

"Tell me where the prince and princesses are," commanded Aragorn coaxingly. "Help yourself by leading us to them."

"But I don't know where they are!" Tanondor burst out. Good Valar, if Eldarion's disobedience hadn't been annoying enough as it was now it was going to get the former lord killed! "I drugged their water, but apparently those wore off early and their after-affects only lasted a few moments if there were any at all. I was counting on them to stay asleep until we got to Dol Amroth, and I certainly wasn't expecting any resistance."

Aragorn watched him with stoic eyes. "Go on."

"Eldarion – Prince Eldarion – he tried to steal the cart and when I stopped him he started saying that he wasn't going to let me go anywhere near him or his sisters again," recounted Tanondor, who was lucid enough to omit the fact that he had been trying to cut the tips of the boy's ears off at the time. "He fought me, kicked me in an awful place, and knocked me out with a knife hilt," he added, pointed at a particularly ugly bruise on his forehead. "I was unconscious for awhile and when I finally awoke he, Princess Laurelin, and the babies were nowhere to be seen. I was searching for them when I was captured. Please, King Elessar: you must take into account that I did not harm any of the children when you judge me for Eärnil's death!"

Legolas stepped deliberately forward. The former lord cowered as much as his bindings would allow but the elf only stared at him, getting uncomfortably into his face. "You _murdered _my baby," he hissed.

"No, I didn't!" protested Tanondor fearfully. "The princesses were fine when last I saw them!"

"I had another baby," Legolas told him, placing one hand on his stomach. "I was pregnant; and the sight of Lord Eärnil's body and the knowledge that my children were at the mercy of his murder killed her. _You _killed her," he added, driving home the point. "Do you have anything else to say?"

Tanondor's eyes widened in horror as he realized that his fate was sealed. "No? Nothing else?" asked Legolas. "Well then, I don't see why I should have to look at your repulsive face any longer. Guards! Get him out of my sight!"

It didn't take the guards long to come, as they'd been hovering close to the tent in the hopes of hearing the king and prince cut Tanondor down to size. They entered solemnly, their mean glee dampened by the revelation of the miscarriage, and quickly dragged Tanondor away. Only when they'd left did Aragorn move to fill in the space between him and his husband. "Legolas," he began, wrapping his arms around him.

"Get off of me!" yelled Legolas, shoving his husband away from him. "What in Mordor did you think that you were doing?"

"Am I not even allowed to hug you anymore?" asked Aragorn, stung and incredibly hurt by Legolas' angry rejection. Their marriage had not been free from conflict by any means but even at their worst the Man had never doubted that Legolas loved him; now, however, it seemed as if he downright _hated_ him.

"Not when you go around offering clemency to the Man that murdered our daughter!" Legolas shot back.

Aragorn's mouth dropped open in shock. "I" –

"Don't you dare try to deny it," said Legolas warningly. "I heard you with my own ears! You told him that there was a miniscule chance that he could avoid execution and then implied that you would spare him if he told you where Eldarion and the girls are! _'Help yourself'_, Aragorn?"

"I – I wouldn't have – I was just trying to get our children back alive and well," stammered a dumbfounded Aragorn. Surely Legolas knew him better than to think that he would actually spare the insane lord's life?

"_But one of our children is already dead because of him!" _roared Legolas. He didn't care that his family was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind, nor about the way that his father was ever so slowly inching toward him. All that mattered to Legolas at that moment was how quickly and uncaringly Aragorn appeared to be dismissing their dead daughter. "You forgot about that, didn't you? Elbereth, you probably think that it's a good thing that she's dead because now you can use it as leverage against Tanondor! You just don't care about her at all, do you?"

The Man paled. "You know that's not true," he said.

"No I don't," snapped Legolas stubbornly. "You haven't done anything to prove it. Tell me, Aragorn: is it only with her murder that you're willing to compromise or do you have a sliding scale for all of our children? Oh, losing one who hadn't been born means nothing; Meren and Gilraen are only a month old so you aren't too strongly attached to them yet; Laurelin's been around for a few years so you might be a bit upset if anything happened to her; and you might be able to bring yourself to really care if Eldarion is killed. Do you have that pretty much right?"

"Legolas," gasped Thranduil, staring in horror at the snarling creature who'd apparently taken over his son's body."

"So you're going to take his side now?" asked Legolas incredulously. He looked at each person in the tent – all of whom were staring at him as if he'd gone mad – before letting his glare rest on Aragorn. His husband gave him the same look that someone who'd been kicked and spat on by everyone that he held dear would have. "Don't give me that 'poor me' expression. It's your fault. Our daughter's murder, the children's kidnapping" – his voice broke and he fought hard to swallow his tears –"I blame you for it all. _It's your fault_!"

Before Aragorn could respond to the hurtful remonstrations Legolas turned away and tore out of the tent. Instinct took over and the Man made a move to follow him but a hand suddenly grasped his own, gently discouraging that course of action. "Don't," advised Merry, squeezing sympathetically.

The hobbit watched with a strange expression on his face as his wife Estella exited the tent, presumably following the fuming elf. While Merry wasn't sure if it was the right thing for her to do he wasn't about to stop her. "There's nothing you can say that he's interested in hearing right now," he advised Aragorn knowledgeably. "It's best to just give him a little space to work through this part of it – trust me."

To be continued…


	24. Conversations in the dark

A fuming Legolas refused to feel anything but righteousness as he stormed outside into the pouring-down rain. He thought that he heard one of the hobbits – Merry, it sounded like Merry – say something but he'd said it too softly for it to be meant for Legolas. Well, that was just _fine_ with the elf prince; he was sick of hearing his family trying to comfort him, scold him for speaking his mind, and generally just talking to him like he was one step away from a complete and permanent loss of his senses. The whole world was full of other places where he could be besides that tent and Legolas was resolved to go be in one of them until he was certain that everyone else would understand that he didn't want to hear anything that they had to say.

He was so busy stalking away and nursing his petulant thoughts that Legolas had walked all the way out of the circle of tents that made up the search base camp before he really realized where he was. Despite the fact that there was a lot of land surrounding him he didn't actually have a place where he could wait out the rain. With his mind so clouded with other thoughts instinct had taken over and he found that he'd been heading toward a stretch of wooded area nearby and Legolas was inclined to keep going there. The trees were close enough together that their branches might be able to provide him with adequate cover from the storm. Besides, he'd loved all manner of trees before he'd formed an attachment to any person (save his father); if anyone were to comprehend what Legolas really needed right now it would be them.

Yet…what if the trees tried to comfort him? Started telling him in their language how _sorry_ they were for his loss? Started giving him advice about how he was supposed to pick up the pieces, carry on as if nothing happened, and grovel to Aragorn to forgive him for his outburst? Legolas almost snarled as he thought more and more about it. What did _trees_ know about what he was going through, anyway?

Dimly – somewhere in the back of his mind – Legolas was aware that he didn't want to be surrounded by a bunch of sympathetic beings, be they people or trees. What he really wanted was to punch, break, slash, and scream until…well, until he didn't feel like doing those things anymore. It was a shame that if he were to scream it would probably just send everyone in the camp running to find him (_'As if I need the guards' empty consolations and fruitless declarations on top of everything else!'_); and if he was going to do any one of the former three he shouldn't be around trees. As sympathetic as most trees would be to a grieving wood elf none of them would take kindly to it if he acting out violently toward them.

With an annoyed growl Legolas turned around and started heading back to where he came from. When he got to the middle of the tent circle, however, he stopped short and crossed his arms stubbornly. Where was he going now? Back to the royal tent, to where all of _them_ were: Sam, Merry, Pippin, Estella, Elladan, Elrohir, Gimli, his father…Aragorn? Would they expect him to come in with his head bowed in shame and his figurative tail between his legs like some errant child who'd run away from home but now had repented? Wouldn't they feel free to send him their piteous looks, whisper how worried they were about him amongst themselves, and say their meaningless soothing words to his face if that happened? And Aragorn…Aragorn would work twice as hard to pretend that he had the power to fix everything if the elf went back in there now. Well, no thank you – Legolas would take standing out in the torrential downpour any day over having to put up with any more of _that_.

'_Besides,'_ Legolas thought bitterly, staring at the tent contemptuously without caring about how sullen and contrary he might be acting, _'they don't want me in there with them anyway. They're all probably too preoccupied with consoling Aragorn to tolerate dealing with my presence. Poor, poor, true-hearted _Aragorn_: first he has a husband who loses a baby and now he has to deal with said husband's _crazy_ and unreasonable outbursts. No, they don't want that crazy husband in there, where he'd have yet another chance to hurt _Aragorn's_ feelings. After all, _Aragorn_ had had a difficult day.'_

Forget that! If all of them were going to take up his space and make him feel like he couldn't stay in his own tent he might as well return the favor. If he knew anything about the protocol that the guards would have followed when they set up all of the tents - and he did – then he knew that there should be at least one unoccupied tent – one that was designated for the family of the king and prince. Seeing that they were so hung up on Aragorn's woes at the moment the elf decided that would be the one place where he could both escape the rain and be alone. With his mind made up Legolas walked slowly around the edges of the circle, pausing outside of each to listen for any sounds that would indicate that someone was in there.

It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. The tent was a little too close to the one for him and Aragorn to make him completely satisfied – but then again, the way that he was feeling _the Shire _was too close to there – but thankfully the guards, who knew how much the king and prince valued their privacy, had taken care to put some distance between them. The only aspect that the elf truly cared about at the moment was that there was no one in it. The lack of rain was a bonus.

Legolas marched inside moodily and sat down hard on the floor. _'No good,'_ he decided seconds later. If he stayed in one place with nothing to occupy his mind he'd start thinking about – no, he wouldn't let himself do that! He slammed his fist down against the dirt, leapt to his feet, and began pacing about. There had to be something in there that he could use to busy his hands and distract his mind.

There! In one of the corners there sat a small pile of wood; firewood that was placed in there in preparation for the storm no doubt, but the reason why it was there didn't matter to Legolas. He snatched up one of the medium-sized logs and rolled it around in his grasp. Carve something – he was going to carve something so delicate and intricate that he wouldn't be able to help not thinking about anything else but what he was working on. Satisfied, Legolas sat down again with his back leaning up against a cot, pulled out one of his sharp white knives, and started whittling away.

"H-hello." Legolas' head snapped up to find Estella standing just outside, pushing aside the tent flap so that she could look in at him. When she saw that she had his attention she gave him an awkward and nervous wave. "May I come in?"

"Why not?" replied Legolas gruffly as he shifted the wood and the knife to one hand and began to rise. "It's your tent, after all. I'll get out of your way."

"Actually I was wondering if…if I could speak with you," requested the hobbit lass in a slightly trembling voice as she stepped inside. This was going to be harder for her than she'd thought that it was going to be. "Or I could just talk, if you don't feel like saying anything back."

"They sent you, didn't they?" demanded Legolas harshly. He plunged right into a tirade without giving her an opportunity to answer the question or considering that Estella most likely wouldn't be his family's first choice of a liaison if they really had sent someone to lecture him. "You're here to tell me that I should stop behaving like I have any business mourning for my murdered baby when it makes Aragorn feel like everything he says and does isn't completely perfect. I bet you think that I should get on my hands and knees, crawl to Aragorn's feet, and beg for his forgiveness for being so demanding and unpleasant to be around after the day he's had, don't you? Well, I wouldn't count on it."

Estella shifted her weight nervously. She wished that she'd had the chance to meet Legolas during a happier time in his life – perhaps then she could have pictured that nice, smiling person that Merry and their friends liked so much. As it was, she only had the image of the elf stressed and worried about his family's safety to contrast with the snappish figure in front of her. "No, it's nothing like that," she insisted, grasping the sides of her skirt to keep from wringing her hands. "I just thought that you needed someone to talk to."

"Look, I really don't mean to offend you," said Legolas stiffly, "but even if I did need someone to talk to – and that's not the case at all – what makes you think that I would choose to open up to you? The fact that you're here in itself tells me that you know absolutely nothing about me."

"You might be surprised," Estella told him in a kind tone.

"I don't believe this," complained Legolas disgustedly. "Out of all the family at this camp – out of all the family, _period_ – you are the person that I know the least. While I admit that I've been too busy worrying about my children's safety" – he choked a little and blinked rapidly – "to play the proper host, you haven't exactly been open and friendly either. Why you feel obliged to start reaching out now is beyond me; and I don't know what you could say that I'd be in hearing, or why I should listen."

"Because I don't feel particularly obligated to dig around for the correct magical words that would make you feel like yourself again," replied Estella, hesitantly crossing over the space between them and slowly sitting down next to the elf. His carving sped up and became more reckless but she made a point of trying to ignore that. "At times it's nice not to talk about anything at all. I could just sit here and watch you make – what are you making?"

Legolas looked down at the log. He'd been so careless in his carving that the intricate design he'd planned out in his mind had been lost under several broad strokes of the knife that had left one end of the wood coming up to a thin point. "Something pointy," he informed her shortly.

"Your 'something pointy'," continued the hobbit. "I might find myself talking about the weather or news from the Shire but you don't have to listen if you don't want to."

"Good," muttered Legolas darkly.

"And," started Estella, biting her lower lip. Should she push this far so soon? But then again, what she had to say would be moot if she waited until he was in a good mood (assuming, of course, that a good mood would come again without him having a little outside help). There was no reason to be a coward; after all, she'd been through worse than having an elf yell at her. "And if you happen to want to say anything, I'll be here. Don't even worry about saying something too mean or anything like that; I understand" –

Legolas slammed down his log, making her jump. "I am so tired of those words," he ranted. In the back of his mind he knew that this had been the first time that Estella had said those hated words to him and she didn't deserve to be stuck at the end of a tirade that was really meant for other people. Still, he'd given her ample warning that he wasn't in the mood for company; he was so wound up that snapping viciously and often was inevitable and he wasn't feeling too concerned with controlling it. "Everyone _understands_! Elbereth, with the way people keep going on about it you would think that having four of your children kidnapped by an insane stalker/murderer and your fifth murdered before she had the chance to live are common experiences."

"I doubt that many people have been in the position that you're in now, if any have been at all," said Estella desperately, trying to keep the conversation flowing but under control. "But there are people who can relate" –

"Please," he snorted. "What do you know about losing a child?"

Estella's cheeks flushed red. Being polite obviously wasn't working; perhaps bluntness would be more effective. "More than most of them do!" she retorted, gesturing blindly in the direction of the royal tent. "You are not the first person in the history of Middle-earth to have a miscarriage, Legolas! You're not even the first person in this family!"

"What?" asked Legolas, taken totally off-guard. His grip on the knife slackened and it thudded to the ground as he started at her in astonishment. "You mean that you" – she nodded sadly –"but when?"

"It happened a little over a year ago," she told him as she tried to maintain her composure. It was a difficult task, seeing that the wounds still felt fresh. "I was about three months along at the time."

"I didn't know anything about this!" blurted out Legolas. He suddenly felt like a terrible person for being so thoughtlessly sarcastic and mean to her just then.

"I didn't expect you to," she countered. "We never told anyone, save our parents, Sam and Rosie, and Pippin and Diamond."

"Why not?" asked Legolas. "I know that the rest of us wouldn't have been able to come into the Shire to be there for you two all of the time, but we still would like to mourn with you in times like that. We didn't even know that you were pregnant in the first place."

The hobbit lass smiled sadly at him. "We didn't know that I was pregnant for too long before…before it happened," she explained. "We'd only just gotten around to telling our parents; and you know Merry – he can't keep a secret from Pippin and Sam for a week, and that's when he's really trying. I'm just thankful that neither of them told their children about it; I can't imagine having to explain what happened to one of them. By the time we were composing our announcement letter for all of you out here I wasn't pregnant anymore and there didn't seem to be any reason to tell you about something that wasn't going to happen."

"I'm…I'm so sorry," said Legolas for lack of anything better to say. The irony of finding himself struggling to say the right words to someone who had lost her child was not lost on him.

She looked him straight in the eyes and nodded. "So am I," she said; and he understood that she was sorry both for her own loss and for his. With a sigh she turned her gaze down to her lap where her hands laid together, clasped. "Thank you for not trying to say something profound, too. I do understand why you got so upset in the other tent, Legolas: it still makes me furious how everyone seemed to think that they knew exactly how to make everything better after it happened."

"Doing and saying things that they thought were comforting when they were really the coldest, cruelest, and stupidest actions and words ever?" questioned Legolas softly.

"Pretty much every word that fell out of their mouths fit that description," groaned Estella. While she was there to help Legolas through his anger and grief, it was also nice for her to have someone to vent to that would know how she felt. "I think the worst was when my mother told me that I could always have more children. As if I could just walk to a store or some other nonsense and pick another baby up off of a cart! That's exactly what I told her, too, and she got so upset. I didn't care."

"Ioreth – the healing woman who brought in my clothing before that final examination in the Houses of Healing – told me that maybe if I had to lose the baby it was better for me to lose her now," recalled Legolas, miserable at the memory but surprisingly relieved to have someone to share it all with that meant it when she professed to understand. "Like I wouldn't know what I was missing if I'd never had it in the first place! In a way, that just makes it worse. If I'd gotten to know her…change her diaper…see her smile for the first time…feed her…hear what her laughter and her cries sounded like…if I just had a face to picture whenever I thought about her…"

Estella rested her hand on his shoulder as his head bowed. "I don't have any memories – happy or sad – with her," he said tearfully. "All I have are a lot of questions that will never have answers. There isn't even a _body_ that I can bury."

"No real closure," whispered Estella understandingly. "Just a lot of 'what-ifs'; just little faces and voices that haunt us that we don't know are what would have been or our imaginations torturing us."

"Exactly," agreed Legolas, wiping his eyes. A surge of anger flowed through him as he thought about how this person – this virtual stranger – knew more about him than his own husband. "And a whole lot of people hovering around, talking at you like they can begin to understand what you're going through. Honestly, why can't they simply keep their mouths shut?"

"I know," she commiserated, keeping a close eye on Legolas' expression as she pressed on to test the boundaries of their conversation further. "I felt that way about Merry most of all. Every word he said, everything that he did – it was as if he was going out of his way to infuriate me. At the worst points I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him."

"I can relate to that," Legolas told her darkly.

"You know, during the whole time that he was away during the War out here not a day went by that I didn't wish that I could see him, if only for a moment," remembered Estella, her tone free of deeper meanings even when her intentions weren't. Legolas heeded not her tone or her intentions; he was too busy fighting back memories of the years that he and Aragorn spent apart before the forming of the Fellowship. "Then he came back with so many bad memories that took him a few years to sort through before we could get married; it felt like we'd finally stepped into the light after years of darkness and waiting and I believed that no matter what else happened that I would always be happy that he was around."

Legolas tensed a little. "I never thought that the day would come that I couldn't stand the sight of him; when the sound of his voice grated on my nerves," the hobbit lass continued. "He was only trying to be strong for me but I couldn't see anything but what he was doing wrong. I think – I know that it was so much easier to yell at him and blame him than to" –

The elf inhaled loudly through his nose. "I know what you're trying to tell me and you're _wrong_," he stated emphatically. Why, when he was finally talking to someone who could actually comfort him, did they have to bring the conversation around to the topic of Aragorn? "You might have had no real cause to blame your husband for what happened to your baby but I have more than enough reasons to blame mine. He trusted that monster and refused to think for himself; he didn't listen to me when I told him that I was having reservations about testing the guards' supposed guilt so dramatically; and – and he just _stood_ there with his mouth hanging open when I was in so much pain that I couldn't move. Elrohir had to take time away from trying to save my baby to coax him into doing anything of use!"

"I didn't know that the lords knew that you were pregnant," said Estella diplomatically.

"_Fine_," snapped Legolas irritably. "Perhaps they weren't focusing solely on saving my baby but they were at least doing something to help me. He wasn't there for me."

"Merry told me that you yelled at Strider to leave you behind and pursue the children," pointed out Estella softly. "Maybe he was just having a hard time figuring out who needed him more – you or them."

Why was she doing this to him? "What, are you trying to make up for the fact that you don't have any salt to rub into my open wounds?" shot back Legolas. But her words had struck a raw deeper than she even intended to reach. He wanted her to leave him alone; as long as she wasn't there reminding him of the truth he could go on stubbornly blaming Aragorn and he didn't have to face it…

"It seems easier," said Estella wisely, noting how his voice was starting to crack. The breaking would be painful but this was one of those times when something had to be broken before it could be fixed. "But in the end all of those feelings fester inside of you until even you don't remember why you got so bitter and angry in the first place Oh Legolas, I'm not going to lie to you: it's going to hurt if you let it all out, but you'll feel so much better afterward."

"There is nothing to let out," protested Legolas fiercely, but tears were spilling from his eyes. He shook his head violently as he wiped them away. "I have every reason to blame Aragorn for what happened to my baby! I'm so angry at him that I can't see straight! I – I hate him!"

Damn it; why couldn't he stop crying? "I mean it – I really do! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him," he repeated, losing more and more conviction each time that he said it. His throat constricted and a loud, choked sob escaped. "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate…I hate myself. Oh Elbereth, it was my fault and I will never stop _hating_ myself for it!"

The utter despair in those last words combined with the fact that he'd finally voiced his deepest shame caused Legolas to break down completely. Estella hugged him as he poured out his agony. "I was her ada," he sobbed. "I was supposed to provide her with a place where she could grow until he could survive in the world outside and all I gave her was about a month."

"It was no more your fault now than it was mine a year ago," said Estella soothingly.

"Yes, it is," Legolas cried. "I fell into the role of a dutiful and subservient spouse and lost the part of me that was strong enough to protect them when Aragorn wasn't acting like himself. Then…then on the field I tried to ignore my pain so I could keep looking for the other children, and when that didn't work I tried to send away anyone who could help me because I thought that I could just join the chase again after it passed. How could I have decided that one of my children's lives wasn't as important as those of the other four? Tanondor – he of all people was right: the Valar did see fit to take her – to take them all – away from me as punishment for failing her so utterly."

"Begging your pardon, but that's a big load of nonsense," Estella told him, sounding full of good hobbit sense. "Those Valar that everyone keeps talking about don't seem to be the type to go around taking children to teach their parents a lesson. Sometimes, Legolas; sometimes there are more direct reasons for it – like falling or stress or things like that – but the truth is that life can be horribly cruel at times and it's not really anyone's fault. Awful, isn't it?"

"Tell me about it," concurred Legolas, wry through his misery.

It sounded like he was on his way to starting to feel somewhat normal again. "You're not alone, Legolas," Estella reminded him. "There are a lot of people who want to help you through this; you just need to guide them through how they can do that."

"If I haven't completely alienated them by now," groaned Legolas. He sniffled. "I was so rude to Ada and Gimli when they tried; I ignored Merry, Sam, and Pippin totally; I _threatened _the twins; and Aragorn…Elbereth, I was such a thoughtless coward, blaming him simply to avoid dealing with how I really felt. He must despise me now! "

"I'm not so sure about that," said Estella nicely. "No one expects you to be perfect all of the time, at least not those who really care about you. Strider – Aragorn – he loves you in your worst moments as well as your best."

Legolas choked out a little laugh. "He used to tell me that his favorite parts of me where the ones that everyone else would consider to be imperfect," he said. The elf buried his face in his hands. "I doubt that will apply now. How can I face him again?"

"I haven't been able to hold a baby since I miscarried," admitted Estel suddenly. "I'll make you a deal: if you can find it in yourself to talk to Strider now I will hold both of your twins _when_ they, Eldarion, and Laurelin are found safe and sound."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Eldarion finally managed to untie both of the knots that had secured the two slings. It was comforting to know that they had both been so secure, but now he needed the blankets to act as, well, blankets. Draping one of them over Gilraen and Meren's baskets he sighed and looked around him. The underbrush he'd found for them to wait out the storm under was thick enough to help keep out most of the rain but a little extra shelter and warmth never hurt. Maybe he shouldn't be risking getting the blankets any more wet – the boy was sure that the babies wouldn't appreciate being lugged around in something damp – but he was too exhausted to try to think up an alternative. If it was going to be a problem it was just going to have to be a problem that he dealt with the next day.

"You should try to get some rest," he told Laurelin, handing her the other blanket as he sat down close to the covered baskets. "Don't worry; I'm going to stay awake. I'll keep watch until morning."

"All right," agreed Laurelin quietly. He expected her to stretch out on the ground next to him but instead she surprised him by curling up in his lap and throwing the blanket across the both of them. A few moments of silence passed before she spoke again. "Some day, huh?"

Eldarion couldn't help laughing a little. "Yeah," he agreed as he put his arms around her. His little sister snuggled against him and he rested his chin on the top of her head. "But we got through it all right. I'm very proud of the way that you acted today."

"Thank you," she said. She wanted to say that she was proud of him too, but it didn't seem right for her to say that to him so she let her mind turn to a new topic. "Eldarion, will you tell me a story?"

"Sure," he agreed. "Do you have one in mind?"

"The one that Papa mostly tells but Ada helps out with," she requested. "That one's my favorite. Do you know it?"

The boy looked down at her. "The one that starts with the little boy who was different?" he asked. Laurelin nodded. "I know it; it's one of my favorites too."

Laurelin gave him all of her attention as he began: "Once upon the time there was a little boy who was different from everyone else around him. But he was happy too: he had a father who loved him, two brothers, friends, and a very good home in his very good life. He was so happy that he didn't notice that anything was missing."

"Then one day an elf from another land came to be a guest in his home. The little boy was so afraid that he tried to hide because his brothers told him that the visiting elf was very mean and wouldn't like him" –

"I shall have to have a little talk with your brothers about that," chimed in Laurelin, doing her best to imitate Legolas' voice. Eldarion raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, you're doing Papa's part. Someone has to do Ada's part."

Eldarion grinned at her. "Good point," he said. Then he continued with the story: "When the elf finally arrived the little boy did everything that he could to stay out of his sight. But the thing that he was hiding behind was his father's body and his father wouldn't let him stay there. Between his father's urgings and the supposedly mean elf's nice voice the little boy was eventually coaxed out. When he came out of hiding he saw that the elf wasn't mean at all but the kindest and most beautiful person ever" –

"Aw, that's sweet," said Laurelin in Legolas' role, kissing her brother on the cheek.

–"and that his brothers were lying dung beetles. It was then that the little boy fell in love for the first, last, and only time in his life. But the little boy was still little and the elf knew that he needed to become a grown-up and do some grown-up things before they could get married. The elf and the little boy had to say goodbye; it was hard and they didn't see each other again for eleven years."

"By that time the little boy was a young Man and when the visitor saw that he was now grown-up he fell in love. But the elf's father knew that his son was very, very special and didn't want him to marry just anyone – it had to be to someone very, very special too. The young Man vowed to become that very, very special person" –

"You already _were_ that person," spoke up Laurelin again.

–"and he set out to do just that. Several years passed when the two didn't see each other for more than a few hours at a time."

"Finally, the most important of all the tests came and the Man – he wasn't so young anymore – and the elf reunited to face it together. It was a long and dangerous road, full of hard times and grief, but they got through them together. At the end of it the Man passed and the elf's father knew that not only was he special enough to marry his son but also that his son would only be happy if he married him. So the two of them married in a very romantic and important ceremony and they were happy. Now, this is where most tales end; but theirs went on."

"Thank Elbereth for that," said Laurelin in her best 'Ada' voice.

"You see, the Man and the elf had a special kind of love, the kind that makes miracles happen. No one thought that they could have children; but they loved each other so much that they were blessed with them anyway. And so the former little boy who had a father who loved him grew up to be a Man who was a father who loved his own children as well as the elf; and he was happy."

"And did they live happily ever after?" asked Laurelin, now asking the question that she, like her brother before her, always asked.

Many leagues away the elf walked through that same rainstorm, his normally light stepped made heavy by his misery and remorse, to a tent that he'd stormed out of earlier that night. Inside the Man sat with a hobbit as he struggled to understand what his beloved husband needed from him during this dark time in their lives. But Eldarion and Laurelin didn't know about any of this; all they knew was how the story had ended every time since the first time that Aragorn had told it. In one voice the two children said – just like their fathers always did: "That's what they work on every day."

To be continued…


	25. Not the person I married

For what seemed to be the countless time since he first discovered Tanondor's treachery Aragorn was at a loss as to what to say. Many ideas floated around in his weary, bogged-down mind but none of them were right; none of them had the power to properly convey everything that he was feeling and everything that he wanted his words to do. Finally he slowly exhaled the breath that he didn't realize that he'd been holding since the beginning of his companion's tale and leaned back against a tent pole. "I can't believe that this is the first time that I'm hearing about all of this," he told Merry.

The hobbit, who was sitting opposite him with his legs crossed, pulled his feet even closer to his body. "I can't believe I'm telling it to you," he said, his voice heavy with sadness and exhaustion.

"Why?" asked Aragorn, trying to keep the hurt out of his tone. It stung how Merry had kept all of this from him, even when he'd been privy to all of the trials and tribulations that Aragorn had gone through with Legolas and their children; but now wasn't the time to make that an issue. After all, Merry didn't need to be burdened with how the Man was feeling so soon after reliving the terrible ordeal of his wife's miscarriage.

"It's not an easy thing to put into words, Strider," explained Merry uncomfortably, unconsciously gripping his bent knees.

"But Sam knew; and _Pippin_ knew," marveled Aragorn. While he had ample evidence from the past that the youngest hobbit in the Fellowship was more than capable of keeping a secret for someone that he cared about no matter what the circumstances, it still amazed him whenever he found out that Pippin had kept anything quiet for longer than a day. After all of those years Aragorn still found it easy to forget that Pippin was almost twenty years older and more mature, and not as likely to let something accidentally slip while he was chattering away enthusiastically as he once had been.

"They were around," replied Merry. "I had already told them about Estella being pregnant so I was sort of obliged to explain to them that there would be no baby. I didn't have that same opportunity to tell you the happy news so there didn't seem to be any reason to let you know the – the other part."

Distance – and the edict that the Big Folk weren't allowed to enter the Shire – had always been there, but to Aragorn's knowledge it had never hindered them from taking part in each other's lives before. "You don't have to shield us from any unhappiness that you feel," he said plaintively. "The – what happened – it was an important event in your life. Not a happy one, but an important one nonetheless. I can understand why it would be too difficult to say something right away, but why did you wait so long?"

"There never seemed to be a right time to get into all of it," said Merry as he stared intently at his hands. "It took a long time for me and Estella to work through everything after losing the baby, both individually and as a couple. We were finally getting to a good point when the news came about Legolas being pregnant…"

His voice trailed off and to Aragorn he looked almost like he was feeling guilty. "What is it?" the Man pressed. "Come now, Merry; you don't have to hide your feelings or protect me from them."

For a long moment the hobbit remained silent. "It wasn't easy to get that message," he finally admitted. "I was happy for you, of course, and I didn't want to ruin that wonderful time in your life with my own news about something that you couldn't do anything about; but…but there was a time there when I was so angry and jealous that I couldn't even _think_ of writing you or Legolas."

"Merry…"

"It wasn't just you two," interrupted Merry. If he stopped now he wouldn't be able to get this out again, and he didn't much care to hear about how sorry that Aragorn was at the moment. "It was everyone and everywhere: you two were having twins, hardly a year goes by that Sam's brood _doesn't_ get bigger, Eowyn and Faramir have Findowyn and dear little Theomir, Eomer has his son; heck, even my younger cousin Pippin is a father and my first child is gone before he was even born. It was hard to see past that."

"I can only imagine," murmured Aragorn quietly, trying to picture himself in Merry's place. His stomach wrenched at the thought.

"I think that it was even harder for Estella," Merry told him. "She has a very hard time being around babies now. In fact, I was surprised when she agreed to come to Gondor at all. She must have known that I wouldn't have come myself if she stayed behind; and how much I did want to come in the end. Not to mention that the chance to put some distance between her and what happened must have been too tempting to pass up."

"She must have been devastated," said Aragorn softly, the image of his own spouse's distraught eyes burned forever into his memory. He wondered if Legolas would always have that look in his eyes – but, then again, Estella had gone through what the elf had (Aragorn refused to take the other children's kidnapping into his husband's new demeanor because they _would be found_ – there was no other way that the situation could be resolved) and her eyes weren't like that. Maybe Merry held the secret as to how to make things better. "How did – did – did she lean on you for support?"

Merry let out a self-deprecating laugh that drew the attention of the others, who were huddled together on the opposite side of the tent. "Hardly," he said, and in his eyes was all of the pain that he went through with his wife after their loss. "Nothing that I did seemed to be good enough for her. When I left her alone she accused me of abandoning her; when I was with her she accused me of crowding her; and when I tried to say anything comforting – that's when she really got mad. The harder I tried to make her feel better the more she yelled at me and pulled away. It was terrible – for awhile there it felt like we'd lost each other when we lost the baby."

"But you didn't" pointed out Aragorn hopefully.

"No, thank the Shire," agreed Merry. "Of course, it did take me more time than it should have to figure out that for all that I was doing for her I wasn't doing the one thing that she needed me to do."

"You tried to do what she wanted you to do _and_ you tried to comfort her," argued Aragorn, feeling a bit defensive. "It sounds to me like you did everything that you could. What more was there for you to do?"

"Mourn," was Merry's simple answer. "Let myself feel the loss of the baby. She needed me to share my pain with her, not run around like an idiot trying to fix something that I knew I could never be able to fix. When she saw how I apparently wasn't reacting, she…well, she…"

Aragorn looked at him empathetically. "Did she blame you for what happened?" he asked, guessing what the answer was but afraid to know for certain. If she had then he could convince himself that Legolas' hurtful remonstrations were just a part of the normal grieving process. If not…he didn't want to think about what it meant if he didn't have that to delude himself with. All he wanted was some sort of assurance that he hadn't lost his beloved husband for good.

"There were times when I thought that she did; and I'm sure that there were times when she thought that she did" answered Merry ruefully, "but no. Not deep down in her heart and soul. Denial and casting your guilt onto others are wonderful, terrible things, Strider: wonderful in that they distract you from what's really bothering you before you go mad; terrible because all of that distraction keeps you from dealing with the issues that are bothering you in the first place."

"So you helped her get past blaming you and face her grief?" asked Aragorn.

"She wasn't the only one who was hiding from her grief," replied Merry in a regretful whisper. "There are different ways of hiding and different places to hide, but it's all hiding in the end. A person can't…can't help anyone face anything while they're still hiding themselves."

The Man nodded in acknowledgement of the advice that Merry had just bestowed. "You're very wise," he told the hobbit with a small wry smile on his face. "When did that happen?"

"A little over a year ago, when I had to be wise in order to keep the person that I'm in love with," said Merry wearily. "I've come to the conclusion that wisdom is life's way of compensating you for all the miseries that it gives you. The more burdens you have the wiser you get. I mean, remember old Gandalf? One of the wisest people I've ever met and he was always being weighed down by something."

"And my father," added Aragorn. Elrond had always made sure that all that his foster son had seen when he was a boy was his happy side, but even as his father had started sharing his concerns with him when he became a young Man Aragorn suspected that he'd always been mindful to conceal a lot of what had been troubling him. "I think that I'm getting wiser too."

"Terrible, isn't it?" asked Merry, at last returning his friend's smile with a small, closed-mouth one of his own. "If this is only a sliver of what it takes to be accounted among the wise then I'm happy to volunteer to be this family's resident simpleton."

"I don't think that you're qualified for that role, but you can have it if you want," declared Aragorn with a wistful expression on his face. "All I want is a chance to work things out with Legolas."

Merry was about to respond when a sudden movement over Aragorn's shoulder caught his attention. "Your wish apparently just got granted, Strider," he informed the Man, nodding in the direction of the tent flap. "Good luck."

All conversation had instantly ceased before Merry last spoke and Aragorn knew why without even looking: Legolas had come back. His beloved husband had taken the first step and was offering him the chance that he so dearly wanted. The rest of the journey wouldn't be easy though; and the Man only hoped that he could be brave enough to meet him halfway – and not blow it. _'No promises that I can't keep,' _he instructed himself. _'No telling him that everything is going to be all right; just – just let it come from your heart.'_

Taking a deep breath he rose to his feet. "Legolas," began Aragorn as he turned around; but the sight of his love made his breath catch and robbed him of his words.

Legolas was thoroughly soaked from head to toe. His garments clung awkwardly to his lithe body and long strands of golden blonde hair were matted to his head and the sides of his face. Droplets of water dripped from everywhere that they could, from his jaw to his fingertips and the elf made no effort to get rid of them. But what Aragorn noticed most was Legolas' face: though it was difficult to tell because of the moisture from the rain he knew by the redness in his husband's eyes that the elf had been crying. He'd obviously hadn't been around at that brief time during the War when Legolas thought that he was dead so to the Man he had never looked so utterly miserable and despairing before.

"Aragorn," said Legolas in a wretched tone that matched his expression. He couldn't help wondering what it meant that Aragorn hadn't said anything or made a move toward him yet. Was he too angry after the elf's cruelty earlier to speak? Not sure about how he felt about Legolas yet? Was it possible that he understood his husband's outburst?

"Dear Valar, were you out in that rain this entire time?" fretted Aragorn. Grief did awful things to elves and while intellectually the king knew that Legolas couldn't get sick he still didn't want to tempt fate. In a flash he snatched up the nearest blanket and hastened over to his husband, wrapping it around Legolas and rubbing his arms through the fabric.

The elf's stomach twisted painfully. There was nothing in Aragorn's voice but genuine concern and naught but tenderness in his gestures and touches. While he wasn't looking forward to being at the receiving end of his husband's anger, he was a bit disconcerted that there seemed to be none of that emotion. How could the Man not be furious – even just a little – after Legolas' unfair condemnations and biting temper tantrum? "I – I," stammered Legolas, struggling past the choked feeling in his throat as his gaze turned to Aragorn's hands moving up and down between his shoulder and his elbow. "Only for a little while. I was – I walked around for a bit, but I spent most of the time in the other tent, talking with Estella and – and thinking."

"You're drenched," observed Aragorn, brushing some of the soaked strands of hair out of his husband's face. To him Legolas appeared to be calmer than he had been when he stormed out earlier; but now that the rage was gone it looked as if all of his misery had come to the surface.

A surge of protectiveness coursed through the Man. Since he was ten-years-old he'd hated seeing Legolas unhappy in any way; now that he knew that he'd done something to put him in that physical and emotional state that feeling intensified all the more. "Oh, Legolas," he said mournfully. "I'm so sorry that I drove you away. It won't happen again, my love; if you don't want to be around me you just tell me to leave and I'll do so – no questions, no protests."

"Don't do this," said Legolas in a voice that sounded strange even to him. A flicker of anger mingled with his guilt and anguish; and he realized that, while his talk with the hobbit lass had made him conscious of his emotions and why he felt them, it hadn't made them go away entirely. They wouldn't leave him either, as long as his husband continued to – well, act so damnably _understanding_. "Don't apologize to me, Aragorn; and don't act like you were solely responsible for how I left like I did. None of that is going to make everything all better."

"I know," replied Aragorn quickly, misunderstanding the reasons for his husband's frustrations in his own remorse. "You were grieving and you needed to be alone for awhile. But I want you to know that I realize that I deserved what you said to me earlier" –

"Stop it!" yelled Legolas, startling everyone in the tent. Aragorn jumped and his hands stilled (although they didn't leave Legolas' arms). Thranduil and Gimli started to inch toward the couple while Sam and Pippin trailed along behind them. Elladan and Elrohir began to discreetly move to position themselves behind the elf should his anger get the better of him again and restraint be needed. Only Merry stayed where he was, watching with an odd fascination as a scene that he'd taken part in all-too-often played out in front of him. "Just _stop_ saying things like that! I can't take it any longer!"

"What do you need for me to say?" begged Aragorn in desperation. "Tell me and I'll say it."

"I don't believe this," seethed Legolas, not consciously understanding why he was so enraged at his husband's kindness but willing to go along with it. After all, holding his emotions in wasn't going to help him work through them. "How could you ask me that question or make that offer? I accused you of being responsible for our children's kidnapping, my miscarriage, and not caring about our baby's _death_, for Elbereth's sake! Yell at me; get angry with me." He abruptly and violently shook Aragorn's hands off of him. "Show some backbone, damn it!"

Aragorn had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. "Legolas, I think that you maybe you need to sit down," he suggested gently as he tried to catch one of his brothers' eyes without the elf noticing. Legolas' behavior was really starting to frighten him; he was worried that it might become necessary to sedate him, if only to keep him from harming himself. "Just sit down on the cot, take a few deep breaths, and ten we can talk" –

"Stand up to me!" screamed Legolas, punctuating each of his words with a shove to Aragorn's chest. "Where is your pride? Do you not know how to feel without an Advisor telling you? Well, I'm an Advisor and I'm instructing you to hate me! I told you that it was all your fault when I _knew_ that it was mine! It's my fault that the children were taken; it's my fault that the baby is dead, and I've been taking it all out on you! You have every reason to hate me, so do it already; _hate me_!"

"Legolas!" shouted Aragorn firmly as the elf began to lash out more and more violently. He clumsily got his husband into a restraining embrace – not without earning a few bruises for his efforts. With Legolas still struggling in his arms the Man moved his own face very close to his and soothingly kissed his brow. "I don't hate you Legolas. I could never hate you; I love you too much. It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was!" raged Legolas with one last burst of energy. "She told me that it wasn't but it was – it really was!" The energy dissipated and he slumped, finally breaking down in tears. "It was all my fault…I'm so sorry…"

"Shhhhh," comforted Aragorn, rocking him a little. "You don't have to speak. Just let it all out – I'm right here."

Legolas suddenly pulled himself out of the Man's arms; not angrily as he had done before but rather in horror. He backed away, staring at Aragorn as if he were a stranger. "I don't want you," he said miserably, tears sliding down his face as he regarded his husband sorrowfully. "You are not the Man that I love and married."

Aragorn's skin grew cold and his stomach sank. "Yes, yes I am," he insisted earnestly. "Who else would I be?"

"You're King Elessar," responded Legolas powerfully. "You are the unflappable monarch who doesn't lose his temper, is always in control of the situation, and constantly mediates amicable solutions to even the most tangled of your citizens' disputes. But I'm not a nobleman bickering about what sacred object belongs to who's family, or a farmer whose neighbor is letting his livestock graze on his land – I don't need King Elessar, and I don't want him. I'm _Legolas_ and I want my Aragorn back. I want the Man who fought with me and once promised me that he would always tell me how he felt no matter what."

His voice cracked as he shied away from the king's outstretched hand. "Please," he pleaded piteously. "I know that I haven't been his Legolas lately – was that what chased him away? I want to be the person that he fell in love with again, but I don't know how to find who that was without him. I – I can't get through this without my Aragorn. I need him…I need you, Aragorn."

"My Little Greenleaf," gasped Thranduil, unable to hold his tongue any longer. In all of the years that Aragorn was away on dangerous and often deadly errands; during the months that he'd fought for both his life and that of Eldarion's; the elven king had _never_ seen Legolas in such a wretched, desolate state. His heart wept to see his normally strong son standing there so lost, sad, and afraid.

The Man's head snapped up at the sound of his father-in-law's voice. How could he have forgotten that so many people were still in there? He'd always been adamant that the inter-workings of his marriage with Legolas were not to take place in front of any audience, be it of noblemen or members of the family. Aragorn felt very exposed all of the sudden.

'_And you should be,'_ he scolded himself. _'It is _King Elessar_ who lives his life in front of everyone; _Aragorn_ is a much more private person. _Aragorn_ would be ashamed to realize that he hadn't given a thought to asking everyone to leave before having what was obviously going to be a private moment between him and his husband. King Elessar was only supposed to be a part of the whole Aragorn – in the name of the Valar, when did I let him take over completely?'_

"You all need to leave now," ordered Aragorn in a shaking voice. Thranduil opened his mouth to protest while his brothers' continued steps toward them stumbled and then halted. Sam and Pippin simply looked at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses. "I know that all of you are worried and that you care but – but it can't be like this. Legolas and I have to talk to each other and we can't do that in the way that we need to with all of you here."

"Come on," Merry finally spoke up, rising to his feet painfully and unsteadily after sitting in the same position for so long. "This isn't any of our business – it's between them. We should probably get to bed anyway if we want to have any hope that we'll be fresh when the search starts up again tomorrow morning. Let's just give them their privacy."

One by one they all filed out. The hobbits were the first to go, Merry in the lead and the others, realizing that he probably had more of an understanding as to what Legolas and Aragorn needed from them at the moment, following. The twins went next after taking one last look at their little brother and knew that he was resolute. Finally Gimli managed to pull a very reluctant Thranduil away by the hand. Legolas felt all of their eyes bore into him as they passed by; he knew that he would have to talk to each one of them later but for now it was all that he could do to turn slightly in their direction with the corners of his mouth curled up enough so that he could argue later that he had been smiling encouragingly.

Aragorn only watched them depart out of the corner of his eye, as his gaze never once left his husband's face. Once the rest of the family was gone and the tent flap was back in its place the Man counted slowly to ten. "We – we should be safe from any accidental eavesdroppers now," he whispered, attempting to break the tension by making a joke. Legolas rewarded the effort with a half-hearted, lopsided smile that made Aragorn want to burst into tears. "Oh Legolas, I don't even know where to begin."

"I don't know either," Legolas told him. He thought hard to figure out how exactly to address the root of the problem. "We've lost ourselves as of late."

"Don't say lost – rather 'misplaced'. We can find ourselves and each other again; we just need to remember who we are," offered up Aragorn hopefully. But the finding was going to be a difficult thing to do when it took kidnapping and a miscarriage to make him realize that their true selves had been misplaced at all.

Groping for a place to start, Aragorn thought back to his conversation with Merry and blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "I was being strong for you."

"But I don't need for you to be _strong_ for me," Legolas told him emphatically. "I need you to be _there_ for me, and to allow me to be there for you in return. I just poured my heart out to Estella Brandybuck, Aragorn; I should have been sharing those feelings with you. But it's just so difficult to open up to someone who's only strong – it made me feel like I was being irrational and hysterical for not being able to maintain my composure. You lost your daughter today too, my love; I know you – I _know_ that it has affected you. Please don't hide how you feel from me."

Aragorn opened his mouth to respond; then clenched his fists to his sides and bowed his head. "I don't know how I feel," he said in a very soft voice.

"Yes you do!" burst out Legolas a bit more angrily than he intended to, but he didn't regret his tone. Elbereth, how were they supposed to work out their problems if they couldn't talk to each other? "I am about two steps away from literally tearing my heart from my chest and showing it to you and you can't even offer me an 'I'm sad' in return? Or do you need to see the heart first? Fine then; I'll start. I feel like someone my heart has already been torn from my body and kicked against the wall before rebounding back into a pile of horse manure for good measure. I feel empty, cold, and alone; and like things will always be like that."

The elf held up a hand when Aragorn opened his mouth automatically to protest and reassure. "I'm not done yet," he said. "If I have to start then I get to finish without interruptions. I'm also so _angry_ at myself because all I can do is look back and imagine myself doing what I would have done if I knew then what I know now. And I'm angry at you, Aragorn; not because I blame you for any of this, but because you've been treating me like an unstable mess while using me to hide from how you feel."

"That's not" – protested Aragorn without thinking. He stopped, though, when Legolas let out a disgusted noise, turned his back, and walked away from him. Irritation seeped into the Man's demeanor as he watched his husband sit down on their cot with his back still to him and at last he exploded. "What do you want from me, Legolas? Do you want me to admit that all of that's true, that I've been telling myself that I can't allow myself to feel the anguish and rage I have about her death because you'll need me to be your rock when you inevitably fall apart? I do – I admit that. How about that I how know how I failed you and our children?"

He charged forward and threw himself down next to the elf, grabbing his husband's face with both hands tenderly but firmly so that he couldn't look away from him. "I've been all of today berating myself for becoming a lapdog to the wishes of the Advisors and an easily manipulated target for their schemes," Aragorn went on. His vision was getting blurry but the Man ignored it. "And while I don't blame you for what happened I am angry at you too, for submitting to me while I submitted to them when the person that _I_ love and married would have verbally smacked me over the head until he'd knocked my sense back into me. I may not have been your Aragorn for awhile but my Legolas has been replaced by the Sun Star for just as long and that makes me so sad and angry! Is _that_ what you want to hear?"

"Yes!" shot back Legolas passionately. "If that's how you feel, yes! I don't need to be protected from your feelings, and at least I know that all of this is coming from my Aragorn. King Elessar," he added, tentatively touching the moisture on his husband's cheeks, "doesn't cry."

"And the Sun Star doesn't pick fights with people to bring out their emotions," said Aragorn. He let out a long, loud breath. "Valar, this is a mess. I feel so many things at once, but…but that's a good thing. It's like getting that first gulp of air after being held underwater for almost too long: painful and yet liberating." He stared down at the blanket that was lying on the cot flat between their bodies and, for the first time, felt like he could say what had been at the back of his mind all day without sounding foolish or selfish. "She might have been a brunette."

"What?" asked Legolas softly.

"Our baby – she might have been a brunette," Aragorn told him tearfully. "Eldarion has brown hair and he looks like me but he has your coloring; and all of our girls are all you when it comes to appearance. She might have been my little brunette girl and the only one of our children who had my coloring. She would have been beautiful no matter what, but it would have been nice…and now – now we'll never know one way or the other."

Legolas let his hands slide up the Man's arms to where Aragorn was still cupping his face. Placing his long, slender hands over his husband's scarred and calloused ones he gently pulled both sets down, holding one of Aragorn's in both of his while kissing the palm of the other. "I wish I could tell you one way or the other," he murmured.

"How do we say goodbye to someone that we love so much and weren't allowed to get to know?" wondered Aragorn.

A thought entered his mind and he looked up at Aragorn with imploring eyes. "My clothing – the ones that I was wearing when…. I'd – I'd like to have a private funeral for her and bury them. It's the only way I know how to begin to…"

"To let her go," Aragorn finished for him. "That sounds like a lovely idea. I think that we should wait, though, until after we find Eldarion and the girls." His face suddenly turned ashen. "Oh Valar, how are we going to explain this to them?"

"I don't know," answered Legolas honestly. "But you and I will come up with something. We make a pretty good team, after all; when we don't let the rest of the world come between us."

He sounded so brave and supportive and yet at the same time emotional and weary; in other words, he sounded like Legolas during a personal crisis. Aragorn smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time and very slowly embraced his husband. "I've missed you," said the Man.

"I was just thinking the same thing about you," Legolas told him, returning the hug. They stayed like that in silence for many seconds before the elf spoke again. "I love you."

"I love you too," said Aragorn. He pulled away a little and took in his love's tearstained face, disheveled hair, tender eyes, and oddly peaceful expression. "You're so beautiful."

"And you have the strangest taste," Legolas laughed a little. "Wow. I'm exhausted."

"I am too," realized Aragorn. "Let's try to get some sleep, mela nin; that way we can be somewhat rested for when the search resumes. I think – I know that we need a new strategy; I've seem the guards' plans and while there is some merit to what they did today it will have to be modified to take into account the changes that the rain made."

"We'll definitely need to work out how we can canvas a wider area with the same number of Men," agreed Legolas, a happy glow filling him. This was his Aragorn. Like his own true self he might have been buried under a mountain of courtly decorum but it was so comforting to know that neither of them had been really gone. Now that they were aware of the problem they would be better prepared to stop it from happening again; for their own sakes and for their children too. They were going to be strong enough to work through their problems, find their children in the wild, and say goodbye to their daughter as a couple and as a family. If anyone could do it, it was Aragorn and Legolas.

To be continued…

_A/N: I'm sorry to inform you that the next update won't be happening for two weeks instead of one. My exam schedule combined with the days I have to travel is making updating on time impossible and I'd rather take a week off than rush the next couple of chapters to try to get back on schedule. Thank you for you patience._


	26. Restoration of an elf and Man

The pre-dawn light was showing the world in brown and gray hues when Beren, as the senior-most guard at the campsite, emerged from his tent (after waking up the other Men in there) and began rousing everyone, save the royal family. "Up, now!" he ordered briskly. "There's a lot of land to search and we're wasting the light!"

Some of the guards were already awake, too troubled to sleep; while others blinked away their drowsiness, each one of them getting the same dismayed expression when they realized that the previous day's events weren't just a terrible dream. Beren felt sorry for them but he couldn't let his sympathy interfere with his command. "No time for breakfast," he informed each one of them. "Just grab some travel bread from wherever you store it and get to the check-in area on the double – plans to make, assignments to receive, and all of that. The prince and princesses are still out there."

For the most part all of them responded with an admirable amount of strength and resolve. It was Day Two of the search – of the _nightmare_ – and the situation was beginning to look very bleak. The trail, which could have yielded all of the information that they needed had fate been kinder, was completely cold now that the previous evening's downpour had washed away all signs that would have pointed in whichever direction it had been heading in. There were so many ill things that could have befallen children so young that lost alone in the wilderness even if they had been unharmed when they escaped from Tanondor, as the former lord claimed they had. The guards themselves were weary and would run out of food soon unless at least some of them returned to the city to restock – robbing the search of valuable manpower. Hope was starting to dwindle, but it was not yet gone. As long as they had feet to stand on and strength enough to do just that the guards would never give up, even if their hearts broke in the effort. After all, it wasn't only the prince and princesses depending on them – it was King Elessar and Prince Legolas as well.

By now it was common knowledge that the prince had had a miscarriage. Beren had discreetly spread the word after informing King Thranduil and Lord Gimli of the matter, warning the guards that he was only doing so only so that they could understand the extend of Tanondor's crimes and the atmosphere in the camp that would come after the king's arrival; and letting them know under no uncertain terms that they were _not_ to speak about it openly. Everyone there had been surprised when Prince Legolas had arrived with the king and as the evening progressed it became increasingly clear that he was in a bad way emotionally. None of the guards had dared to leave their tents when they heard angry shouts coming from the royal couple's tent (it wasn't a very big campsite and sound carried with relative ease, although the noise of the rain made it impossible to hear any of the actual words) or the sound of someone stirring outside during the in-between quiet spell. It was obvious that the poor prince wasn't ready to be there so soon after losing his baby and many of the guards suspected that King Elessar would be leaving them briefly to accompany his distraught husband back to Minas Tirith.

It came as quite a shock, then, to discover both King Elessar and Prince Legolas waiting for them at the open-aired check-in tent just beyond the circle of the campsite, deep in conversation. Prince Legolas didn't look half-crazed with grief as many of them had expected and the traces of helplessness that had been etching their king's expressions as of late were completely gone; they were standing side-by-side, grim-faced but determined, and looking every bit ready to take on the world. The guard Mardil, who'd barely been out of boyhood at the time of the War saw them and was suddenly reminded of the resolved ranger-general and loyal, brash, and focused elf prince of old.

"Your majesties," said Beren in shock, stopping when he saw them. He raised a fist in the air to let the rest of the guards know that they were to follow suit. "What are you doing here?"

"We're ironing out some details while waiting for all of you to put in an appearance," Aragorn told him in a short tone. "You all are late."

"We – we…weren't expecting to see you this early in the morning," stammered Beren, taken aback slightly by the king's tone. "We know that it's been a long night for the both of you" –

"You don't know the half of it," interrupted Aragorn dryly, feeling a little sorry for them but not too much. If they hadn't been expecting to see 'King Elessar' just wait until they beheld 'Aragorn'. "Don't get too comfortable, Men; you will only be staying long enough for the prince and I to lay out the new search strategy for you. We have much to do today and too few hours to do it in."

This all-business attitude was too much for the guards to comprehend at first. Had King Elessar _forgotten_ what his own husband had just gone through? "My king," one of the newer guards said, tentatively stepping forward. Aragorn noticed how his concerned eyes strayed many times to Legolas and the Man wondered if he'd every seen his or the elf's true nature. Probably not, as then he would know that Legolas was more inclined to dole out black eyes than grateful tears to people who looked at him with such pity. "May I suggest that we discuss such delicate matters elsewhere? There are – those of us who have yet to recover from the trauma of yesterday present" –

"If there is anyone present who is too traumatized to even sit through a briefing, let him leave now and not be ashamed, for he will be ensuring that he is not allowing his weakness to hold the rest of us up," spoke up Legolas.

His voice was steady; aged and worn-down more than it had been before but still strong. The guards, however, didn't believe it for a minute – knowing their prince he wouldn't admit to how badly his stomach hurt if he'd been run through there with a spear. "Sire, we understand that circumstances" –

"Let's just get this out of the way now so that it won't be weighing us down for the rest of the search," sighed Legolas in frustration. "As you all undoubtedly are aware, I had a miscarriage yesterday. I thank you for your concerns and your condolences but do not make the mistake of thinking for one second that I'm moments away from completely falling apart. I mourn and I miss my daughter but I must keep moving ahead because standing still is not an option right now."

The young guard backed off and bowed deeply, as if he suddenly remembered that the prince consort was not just the king's spouse but someone who was to be respected and reckoned with in his own right. Aragorn noted this and wondered silently when it had become acceptable for the guards to question their authority and be surprised when they exercised it. Well, those times had come to an end. "Not that the prince had made all of that clear, let's get right down to it," he ordered in a stern voice. "We have a few matters that we need to discuss before we disassemble the base camp."

"Disassemble?" repeated Mardil in alarm. Had the king taken all leave of his senses?

"Yes, disassemble," affirmed Aragorn with a touch of impatience in his tone. He'd never been the kind of ruler that was so high and mighty that he couldn't tolerate reasonable dissention and productive debates when he had the luxury of time to address them but this was getting ridiculous. So far that morning the guards seemed to do nothing but question his commands and that wouldn't do, especially when so much was at stake. "The base camp has served its purpose well, but the areas surrounding it have already been searched. It needs to be moved as the search goes forward; we'll lose too much searching time if the camp remains where it is while the search perimeter goes somewhere else."

"But we need a place to check in each night!" protested Mardil worriedly, imagining all of the different search teams out wandering in different directions in the wilderness and the effort it would take to gather them together again once the search had come to an end. "Without it people could wind up searching for days after another party finds the prince and princesses."

Aragorn cocked his eyebrow and Mardil felt like an errant child all of the sudden. "Have you so little faith in my ability to lead you that you think I haven't already thought about that?" the king demanded. The guard bowed his head in shame. "I am well aware that I have not been acting like it lately but I am still your king and am still competent to command you."

"He only said that we were to take this camp down, not forego _all _base camps for the rest of the search," Legolas pointed out in a tone that left no room for arguments. Some of the guards looked on as if they wondering where their quiet, passive prince had gone but most of their faces lit up in recognition and relief. "We will carry what we need to the site of the new camp, set it up, and take it down when need demands it. We don't need a semi-permanent stronghold; speed and mobility will assist us more now."

"I beg your pardon, King Elessar, Prince Legolas," called out Beren, unconsciously and awkwardly raising his hand. "Moving the camp has definite merits, but before we move it we must know which direction to move it to. Through this action we will be narrowing down which different directions that the prince and princesses are suspected to be going in and we know nothing about that yet."

Aragorn crossed his arms and curled the corners of his mouth up with confidence. The problem with the guards wouldn't be resolved instantly but at least their questions pertained to the plan and not what was best for his husband and Men. It was progress. "We may not have any definite knowledge but we can and must use the information that we do have," reasoned Aragorn with a good deal of certainty. If he didn't want them to question him then he couldn't question himself either.

Besides, he loved it when he was able to slide the different puzzle pieces into place and his early morning discussion with Legolas had done wonders in terms of that. He'd forgotten how helpful it was to go over things with someone who was as strong in his opinions as he was in his faith in the king. "We know that the trail that Tanondor was found retracing his steps on was heading north," Aragorn went on, hurrying to the table under the tent to spread out a map. Legolas held one end flat while the guards gathered around. "We also know that he was ultimately heading to Dol Amroth but had to act as if he was going to Ithilien, which is pretty much in the opposite direction that he needed to go in. He would have needed to turn south-west, but that would take him too close to parts of Gondor that knew about the abduction unless he was far enough north to take the round-about way."

The guards observed in growing awe as Aragorn tore small pieces from the corner of a piece of parchment. "We are right here," he explained, setting down each piece as he pointed out a location. "Ithilien is here, and Dol Amroth is here. Based on what we've figured out so far we can conclude that we need not search any lands south of where we are now."

"We won't need to search as far west as Dol Amroth either," spoke up one of the guards enthusiastically. Now that he could actually see the potential search area laid out on a map it didn't seem so intangible and expansive. "Even a top speed Tanondor couldn't have gotten that far in less than twelve hours. Considering the time that he left and the time that he managed to walk to where he was found I would say that he couldn't have gone more than twelve leagues to the west at the most."

"Let's not forget that he would have wanted to get as far from the path to Ithilien as possible to make sure that King Thranduil wouldn't be able to hear the cart," pointed out another. "So searching the lands right next to there shouldn't be a high priority either."

"I'm pleased to see that we're all starting to think along the same lines," said Aragorn, using the pieces of parchment to roughly outline the search perimeter as he and Legolas had figured it earlier and the guards were reasoning it now. "As of right now, we're figuring about twelve leagues in each direction at the most. What else do we know?"

"Well, there is what Eldarion will presumably do to consider," chimed in Legolas. "He would have been able to discern from the cart's trail and the position of the sun what direction that they had been heading in before the time of their escape. While he obviously didn't follow that trail itself he would have chosen to go in the same general direction. If we can believe Tanondor about the approximate time that they got away, they could have covered more than a few miles."

"Yes – _if_ he was clear-headed enough to think about all of that," countered another guard forlornly. "But he must have been one scared little boy."

Legolas bristled at this description of his son, though in the recesses of his heart he couldn't entirely disagree with it. He had such a hard time thinking of Eldarion as anything but a child at times; yet from Tanondor's frightened babblings and the actions he took before he was caught told another story. "He had the presence of mind to see through Tanondor's lies, fight back and win, and then sort through the supplies and presumably organize them and his little sisters; all while getting away before Tanondor awoke," he argued proudly. "He might indeed have been frightened but everything that we've learned so far suggests that he was thinking rationally at the time."

"Agreed," nodded Aragorn supportively. "He is almost thirteen, remember."

"And he has training beyond what most twelve-year-olds have," added Beren. "His family, friends, and even a few of us guards have been teaching him survival and tracking skills for most of his life. And let's not forget that he is of Numenorian and elvish blood, the child of our king and prince."

"Yes," said Legolas quietly, as if to himself. "It is not in his nature to lose his head when it counts."

"The prince is likely to have chosen a clear trail," suggested Beren. "He was in a place that was most likely strange to him so I can't imagine him deciding to go at it completely blind; yet I agree with Prince Legolas that he wouldn't have followed the cart trail – there was too much of a possibility that Tanondor would also take it when he woke up. My guess is that he would have decided to use something prominent and permanent as a guide – an unusual tree or mountain in the distance, perhaps, or a crude trail made by some of the country folk, or the river if they were anywhere near that when they escaped."

"He'll have left some sort of tokens behind them as well," said Legolas, feeling, well, not _enthusiastic_, but fueled with a new surge of energy. "Remember, he knew that his abductor was a Man who hadn't served in Gondor in any capacity except as an Advisor since the War and most likely hadn't bothered to keep his skills up-to-date. And he knew that the people that were coming to look for him that he _did_ want to find the four of them would have much sharper eyes. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Eldarion is leaving a path behind him; we just have to find it."

Aragorn could feel his heard pounding in his chest. For the first time in longer than he cared to admit he felt like he was in control, as if the fog that was Tanondor's deceptions and his own passive complacency had been lifted and he could finally see clearly what needed to be done. "It's unlikely that we'll ever be in the position to _follow_ them, though," he pointed out. "We'll be heading toward them, not after them."

"True," conceded Legolas with an internal groan of exasperation. He thought fast, determined not to be frustrated. There was a trail out there that led to his children – he was sure of it – and just because it would prove to be very difficult to find didn't mean that they would _never_ find it; they just had to be more open-minded. He stared down at the map and inspiration hit. "But still, the point where they set out from can't be too far away – after all, Tanondor was able to walk the distance in less than a day. No matter how motivated he was he couldn't have gone any farther than the twelve leagues, and most likely less. Men on horseback could easily cover the distance in a fraction of the time."

"Point taken," concurred Aragorn, too caught up in the emotions that came along with everything starting to be as it should be again to notice how a few of the younger guards' mouths dropped open in shock at witnessing the prince contradict the king. "It should be easy enough to modify the plan to take that into consideration. We can pull some of the guards to ride ahead…"

The couple began to murmur animatedly to each other, gesturing with subtle wildness with their hands as they obviously illustrated various points of the plan that they had yet to lay out for the guards. The Men watched them in wonder and curiosity for a few moments before Beren felt compelled to clear his throat and get their attention. "I beg your pardon, sires," he apologized, "but what _is_ the new plan?"

"You already know the first part, which is taking down the camp and carrying only what we need with us – meaning that everyone, including Prince Legolas and I, will have to share our tents with more people," plotted out Aragorn. He then turned to nod at Mardil, who gulped a little. "Then Mardil and the rest of his search time are going to lead us to the exact spot where they captured Tanondor. The closest piece of land that can serve as a campsite will be the new base camp. A minimum number of Men will remain there, charged with setting it up and keeping track of each search teams comings and goings. The rest of us will divide up what we've outlined on the map and search, leaving no stone unturned."

"Except for three of the search teams," chimed in Legolas, assessing each one of their faces carefully. "We can establish which ones they will be when the time comes but the Men led by Beren will be one of them. "When the other teams depart on their searches, those people will ride out twelve leagues in the west, north, and east. At that point, they will start combing the area for the natural guides that Beren mentioned earlier: a mountain, a notable tree in the distance, a trail of some sort, the river or any of its tributaries – something permanent that plausibly lends itself to being followed. Chose the ones that are promising, breaking into groups no smaller than two if you need to in order to follow them all, and do a thorough search back in the direction of where Tanondor was captured."

"Those Men don't need to report back to the camp at nightfall if they haven't met up with the searchers in their areas before then," added Aragorn thoughtfully. "If they feel that they be more effective by camping where they are when it gets dark than having to ride back and forth every day I'll grant them the discretion to do so."

The guards were wide-eyed; they looked like their hope had grown greatly since they first unexpectedly came across their king and prince waiting for them, but there was still some confusion there as well. Aragorn couldn't really fault them for that: it had to be a little disconcerting to have their own plan of action modified to become much more ambitious by a king who'd essentially been hibernating and a prince whom they'd expected to be too beside himself with grief to function. They would get used to it, however; what's more, judging by how well they responded after getting over the initial surprise the guards were more than happy to get used to it.

"Enough talking!" declared the Man. "We can work out the details further while we take down the camp and move out. For now, you know what must be done so start doing it! We're wasting precious time already!"

That order seemed to rattle the guards out of their surprise-induced semi-stupor. "Yes, King Elessar!" shouted some of them in one voice. They bowed deeply as best they could in that cramped space and set forth at once to make short work of the camp.

Legolas watched them go for a second or two, heading toward all of the tents including – ai Elbereth. He mentally smacked his forehead and turned a grim, fiery eye back to Aragorn. "What are we going to do about Tanondor?" he wondered.

"I forgot about him," admitted Aragorn. He let out an annoyed groan and glared in the direction of the tent that was serving as the disgraced lord's cell. "Well, we can't be dragging him all over with us and having him slow us down."

"Any clues that he might be able to give us as to what direction he came in could be helpful," Legolas debated with both his husband and himself. Then he deflated, his shoulders sagging a little as evidence that Aragorn and his own internal voice had won. "But I doubt it. Tanondor doesn't strike me as the type who can keep too many details straight in his head without proper motivations even under the calmest of circumstances, and he was definitely crazed and angry yesterday."

"We could try bribing him to make himself useful," suggested Aragorn without much enthusiasm. Why did that horrible Man have to continually hinder them?

The elf shook his head. "He knows by now that his fate is sealed," he said quietly. "At this point Tanondor will not assist the search unless we offer him in writing something that I cannot in good conscience bear to grant."

"We wouldn't be able to trust a word that came out of his mouth anyway," said Aragorn disgustedly, thinking back on all the times – all of the _years_ – he'd taken the former lord's word as the truth. How long had he been thinking about acting against the royal family? Not only since Lady Nienor's death – his machinations had been too carefully plotted out to not have existed since before that time. "Besides, we're going to find our children with or without his help and I detest the notion of them having to come back to the same camp where they abductor is before traveling back to the city in the same party. That would be cruel."

"We'll just have to break down and have a small escort take him back to the city's dungeons," decided Legolas with a heavy sigh. "How I hate having to waste any manpower on him! Every guard that's tied up with that task is a guard who that can't be searching for Eldarion and the girls!"

"I think we can be of some assistance to you there," sounded a voice from the other side of the table, one that possessed a perpetually cheerful lilt even when it was deadly serious.

Legolas and Aragorn looked over to see that the hobbits, the twins, Gimli, and Thranduil had approached them while they'd been caught up in their discussion. "We have some eavesdroppers, it seems," Aragorn informed his love, raising an eyebrow at the rest of his family.

"What, you were expecting us to sleep in late only to be roused when some guards tripped over themselves to apologize for taking down our tent while we were still in it?" asked Elladan with a smirk. "I can't believe you forgot that we too are a part of the search party, Estel; or is your memory getting feeble in your old age?"

"Don't go teasing him now, Elladan! Can't you see that they have a problem on their hands and, like I said, we can help them out with it?" admonished Pippin with a shake of his head. "At least Sam, Merry, Estella, and I can. I hereby volunteer the four of us to see to it that scum-sucking, orc-kissing, spawn of the Enemy gets back to Minas Tirith and is thrown into the worst cell imaginable."

"You don't wish to join the search?" asked Aragorn, grateful but perplexed by the offer.

"We don't got much to bring to it," pointed out Sam, using his good hobbit sense. "We hobbits don't know a lot about the land in these parts and we're not great trackers. Sounds to me if you have to send anyone back with Tanondor it would be people like us."

"And what if Tanondor were to try to flee?" questioned Legolas.

A malicious glint came to Merry's eyes as he fingered the hilt of the long knife that he used as a sword. "Then I for one am more than willing to take the chance to spare everybody the bother of a proper trial," he declared, meaning every word of it to his core. "I've stuck uruks, orcs, and the Witchking; and I don't see how he's any different from any of them."

Legolas came around the table and knelt down, embracing all of them in their turn. "Thank you. Thank you," he added in a whisper in Estella's ear when he hugged the hobbit lass. She responded by giving him an extra-tight squeeze and an affectionate pat on the back. "I'm so sorry that I've been neglecting all of you as of late."

"None of that now, Mr. Legolas," scolded Sam paternally. "You were having a rough time of it and we all knew that. Don't go beating yourself up about it! We're your _family_ – we understand."

"I hope that the same goes for me as well," smiled Aragorn as he joined his husband and grasped the hobbits' arms before letting go to scan for the nearest guard. "You there!" he called to one of them, who instantly rushed over. "Escort the Lords Samwise, Peregrin, and Meriadoc, and the Lady Estella to Tanondor's tent. I am entrusting them with making sure that he is dealt with in a fitting manner until the search is over with. Make very certain that their every order is followed to the letter."

The guard bowed and led the four hobbits off. Merry glanced back as the left to see Aragorn watching him. There were words of thanks that would be said later, but those would be unnecessary as the emotions in their eyes said all that they needed to say better than any words ever could. With a nod of acknowledgement the hobbit looked away and Aragorn turned to his brothers.

"Well," coughed the Man. "I didn't hear either of you nobly volunteering for anything."

"Must we keep reminding you that we are valuable members of the search party, Estel?" asked Elladan in feigned exasperation. "I do not doubt the guards' dedication but how many of _them_ are both expert trackers and healers? We're right where we need to be! After all, it's not as if you'll be of any use if one of my poor nieces or nephew is found injured – Elrohir and I know all about what happened when Eldarion broke his arm."

"You weren't supposed to tell him that," said Legolas when his husband narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him. The elf smiled over at him, innocently apologetic, before stepping over to the twins. "Elladan, Elrohir – I owe you two an apology as well. I'm sorry that I threatened to kill you."

"No you're not," countered Elrohir nonchalantly. "You're just sorry that it was necessary to threaten us. And so are we – in truth we probably would have 'found' something wrong with you to keep you from doing something that we deemed you weren't ready for. We were wrong and we're sorry for that too."

The three young elves fell into a confused three-way hug, the type that they hadn't done since before the War. "All right, enough of that," announced Elrohir, mockingly echoing Aragorn's previous words. "The two of us are going to make ourselves useful by giving the guards a hand. Nice to see you back in top form, Estel," he added.

The two brothers began to walk away, only to pause and hurry back to trap their younger sibling between them in a crushing embrace before exiting once more for good. That left the royal couple alone with Gimli and Thranduil. The elven king – the proud, stubborn warrior leader who knew all too much about grief and fought all his life not to show it – had tears glistening in his eyes as he smiled warmly at his son. "You seem so…so like my Little Greenleaf again," he observed, his voice thick with emotion. "You both seem to have been restored."

"I only wish that it hadn't taken all of this happening to it," said Legolas, taking one of his father's hands and one of Gimli's. They stood like that for a moment before they too fell forward into an embrace. "I was such an ungrateful brat yesterday when you tried to help me! I'm so sorry."

"You don't need to be doing that, laddie," Gimli told him gently, pulling away a little and gesturing for Aragorn to come to them. The Man hesitantly complied, not sure of what to expect, and Gimli patted him on the arm. "Thranduil and I got to talking last night and we came to the realization that we've been contributing to this whole mess too with how we blindly went along with whatever orders were given to us."

"I mean, really," nodded Thranduil resolutely. "We spent hours sitting in some bushes when you needed us most – when our grandchildren needed us most – and for what reason? To follow an order that we would have realized was ludicrous if we had just taken the time to think it through properly! Well, there will be no more of that! Now that we have my Little Greenleaf and his husband back, it is only right that they have the old Thranduil and Gimli back as well."

Thranduil grabbed Legolas' face and planted a hard kiss on his brow. "I promise you that," he swore in a soft voice before straightening up again. "But what are we doing, standing around and chatting as if we have all the time in the world! There is work to be done!"

Aragorn and Legolas trailed behind as the elven king and Gimli charged to the campsite. "How are they defining the 'old Thranduil and Gimli'?" wondered Aragorn in a low voice. "I don't want your father regressing so for that he ends up not liking me again. That would be awkward – and embarrassing."

"That's not what he meant and you know it," Legolas rolled his eyes. "Things are going to get back to normal, that's all – or at least most things," he added, discreetly touching the stomach that was empty in a way that he could physically feel. A wave of sadness and pain washed over him and he did not try to smile bravely when Aragorn laid a hand on his shoulder worriedly. "It won't go away overnight, my love, and I doubt that it will ever leave fully; but I can either wallow in my misery or take down some tents before combing the countryside for four needles in a haystack. I think that we all will be better off opting to do the latter."

To be continued…


	27. Doubt and cows

It was early on the morning and already the sun seemed to be bearing all of its heat down on the guards Beren and Eldacar. This was not a good way to start the day's – Day Three – searching, as emotional temperatures tended to rise when the literal temperature did and the two search partners (indeed, pretty much everyone participating in the search) were already on pins-and-needles as it was. Yesterday's search, despite its promising start with the king and prince's decisive plans and leadership, had yielded no results: Prince Eldarion and the three princesses were still missing and no one had yet to find any sign of them.

The plan itself was the best one that anyone could have come up with and the ensuing search couldn't have been executed better; the reason why nothing had come of it after one day had nothing to do with any flaws concerning either of those, but because of the simple fact that even though they'd managed to cut the search area down considerably the day before there was still a lot of land to comb. The searchers had to investigate twelve leagues of earth in every direction except south, which was a daunting enough task without having the additional requirement of having to do a thorough job of it. Progress _had_ to happen at its excruciating but necessary slow pace, for no one wanted to be responsible for overlooking an important clue and thus condemning the lost children to wandering and death.

It also didn't help matters that there were relatively few people participating in the search. King Elessar had made the difficult but ultimately best decision to not call in Gondor's army for additional assistance. The temptation of having so many extra bodies scouring the lands had lessened greatly when the king considered how many hours of daylight they would lose in sending for the army and then having to reconvene everyone so that the newcomers could be briefed and the plan altered to accommodate all of them. There was also the potential that evidence would be lost if so many feet trampled over the landscape that they needed to yield up clues. Besides, the soldiers didn't know the royal children all that well; not only might they overlook a clue that could have been readily identified as significant by a guard who knew them better but also, considering what the children had just been put through and by whom, Prince Eldarion and Princess Laurelin probably wouldn't be inclined to trust someone that they only vaguely acquainted with. For better or worse the task of searching and finding belonged to the royal family (minus the hobbits, who were seeing to it that Tanondor was as miserable as possible right then) and the royal guards. All that they could hope for was that it would be enough.

Eldacar wasn't so sure that it would be anymore. Intellectually he understood that they'd made admirable progress so far, especially considering how much land they had to search, but emotionally it was difficult not to feel discouraged. He was too unfamiliar with the land in those parts to feel like he really had a handle on where they were and where they were heading; and the leagues that seemed to loom ahead of him and his search partner appeared so vast and complex in his eyes. On top all that he was one of the guards who'd been sent on Prince Legolas' impromptu mission of riding out and then backtracking in search of tokens that the crown prince might have left behind him; and that task was slowly costing Eldacar his sanity.

It hadn't taken long for the guards on that assignment to realize that they would cover a lot more ground if they divided the land that needed to be searched among pairs. As it usually happened given his lack of experience when compared to the others the young Man had been paired with Beren and together they had set out to comb the river edge and immediately surrounding areas. This in itself would have been fine had Eldacar not been spotting what he deemed to be potential tokens left and right since mid-day of Day Two. Not all of them could possibly been dropped by any one of the children (and in fact none of the ones that he had found so far had been) but he wanted so badly to find them, for _something_ to draw a clear path to his goal, that his mind had begun seeking out _anything_ and then imagining things that would make the so-called "token" he'd originally found make sense.

This did not bode well for the hapless and frustrated pair. Under normal circumstances Beren was a patient, if demanding, Man; but the stress of the children's kidnapping had been wearing him down for days. Now he was prone to snap at the slightest provocation – and having a fellow guard distracted by flights of hopeful fancy that threatened to hold up their search was something that he considered to be more than _slight_ provocation. As the morning dragged on Eldacar had continued to drive Beren to the breaking point with each time he pointed out a ridiculously improbable lead or a bent branch that "could be a sign" until finally he managed to push the older Man right over the edge.

"Oh, for the Valar's sake!" Beren snapped on the river bank when Eldacar excitedly presented him with yet another _token_ that made absolutely no sense. "Dare I ask what's going on in your head or is it too horrifying even for you to face?"

"The king said" – Eldacar started to protest.

"Yes, no stone unturned," Beren cut him off impatiently. "But I'm sure that he didn't mean for us to abandon all common sense. Please do us both a favor and _think_ for a second: ask yourself where in Middle-earth would the prince and princesses have gotten a _cowbell_?"

"Well, Tanondor could have packed it," reasoned Eldacar lamely. "And they could have taken it because…because they needed it as…as a signal…"

Beren reminded himself firmly that he had more to lose than gain by maiming the young Man before him. "A signal," he repeated scornfully. "And what reason would Tanondor have to pack it in the first place?"

"He was going to see the lady that he claims to love," said Eldacar in a small voice. He gave the bell a little shake that grated on Beren's last nerve and the older guard tensed, his eye twitching. "Perhaps it's some kind of love token; a metaphor" –

In an instant Beren snatched the bell away from him and threw it against the mud with all of his might. "A _metaphor_?" he asked incredulously. "Have you ever _been _around a nobleman before, Eldacar? They give the males in their lives ridiculously ornate weapons that are useless in real combat situations and they give females overvalued pieces of gaudy jewelry, not _cowbells_ that are laden with metaphors! Even if Tanondor had gotten creative in his insanity, his breeding wouldn't allow him to give the lady or any other woman anything that didn't have jewels on it. Tell me, Eldacar," he added, sucking in a deep breath to replace the air he'd lost during his rant, "is that filthy, dingy, rusted bell encrusted with jewels?"

"No," conceded the younger Man in the quietest voice that he possessed without whispering as he fought with himself not to take a step back. If anything, it was Beren's demeanor that was making him doubt that the search would end successfully more than anything else. While he'd always had a bit of a short temper when it came to incompetence shown by those under his command, in the past the older guard had always maintained a level of self-control that projected a countenance image of confidence. It had always been comforting for Eldacar to believe that Beren had a handle on the situation but now that image was crumbling fast and it scared him.

"No," echoed Beren, willing himself to calm down.

Against his better judgment Eldacar couldn't help blurting out: "But where else could it have come from?"

Apparently he was trying to calm down prematurely. "There are farms in this area," Beren practically growled. "Not like peasant farms where families only have a little plot of land that's barely big enough for a garden but ones with farmers who are somewhat wealthier. They own large plots of land to build their homes, grow their food, and graze their livestock which includes – yes, you guessed it – _cattle_. When they have need to take their cattle to another farm they walk the cows close to the river so that they don't have to worry about veering off of their original course or hauling water. Either some cow lost the bell on that sort of trek or else some hooligan stole it and discarded it here; but that doesn't matter to us, as it has _nothing _to do with why we're out here! Just leave it for someone else to find!"

"All right, all right, I'm sorry," burst out Eldacar in what was probably not the most respectful tone that he could have used. At least he was _trying_; what was Beren contributing?

"You should be," glowered Beren in an equally unpleasant voice. The two stood there glaring at each other for a beat before the older Man stiffly pointed away from the river. "Why don't you go inland and see if you can find anything that might give us some inkling that we're on the right track? Let me know at once if you find anything that might actually _be_ a clue or a token. In other words," he added, spiteful in his frustration, "if you stumble across another cowbell I don't want to hear about it."

Ordinarily Eldacar would have felt extremely resentful about the callous dismissal and the condescending way that Beren was treating him. At the moment, however, he _really _needed to get away from his search partner before he got into any more trouble by punching his commander. "Yes sir," he got out through gritted teeth. After a moment where neither of them broke their mutual glare the young Man tore his eyes away, turned abruptly, and walked off angrily in the direction that Beren indicated.

Not completely thoughtless in his aggravation the young guard took pains to scour everything around him as he stalked on, careful not to crush anything underfoot unnecessarily. There was no clear trail leading from the river to the more wooded area and beyond but the space between the trees was sufficiently wide enough and the grass was brown and bent forward until it was almost lying flat, making it easy enough to move between the tall trees without one. Eldacar guessed that was also due to the movements of the farmers.

The sun beat down on him through the sparse limbs. Everything seemed especially bright in Eldacar's exhausted eyes and he tried in vain to shield himself completely from the light. His feet blindly followed a natural path that appeared to be leading to what looked to be a small clearing up ahead. _'Well, I'd call that a natural place to look,' _the guard decided. As he continued on he found himself marveling at how clearly he could still hear the sound of the river flowing; even when he stepped out into the meadow –

"Oh Valar," mumbled Eldacar in shock, forgetting all about the river. He stopped short and goggled at what he'd just discovered. A mirage – it had to be a mirage, the result of too much sun, not enough sleep, and heightened levels of annoyance – but the sight didn't go away after he blinked several times.

Now there were signs and there were _signs_ and this was definitely the latter. "Beren!" he called as loudly as he could, disregarding his previous anger in his excitement. "Beren, come quickly! I found something!"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

'_Babies are either truly miraculous creatures or the biggest joke that the Valar could play on people,'_ decided Eldarion as he continued to trudge along, Laurelin stumbling along at his side and his infant sisters in each of their slings. _'Or maybe they're both.'_

There was something maddening about Gilraen and Meren's lack of logic that was beginning to eat away at the boy's nerves. Eldarion had helped out his ada with the babies when his papa had been recovering from his illness but he hadn't realized the full extent of their irrational tendencies until now. They cried when they had a dirty diaper and they cried when someone tried to give them a new diaper. The two babies screamed at the top of their lungs when they were hungry and right after they ate when they felt sated. They carried on incessantly when they were tired, fighting the sleep that he could only dream of giving into while they were still in the wilderness, and when they awoke after a long rest that Eldarion was coveting very badly at the moment. They peed and pooped so often that the boy was surprised that there was anything left inside of them. And, most disconcertingly of all, they ate far more than he'd anticipated.

Funny, it didn't seem like a lot when he was feeding them in his parents' antechamber and now they were about to pay dearly for him not taking the distortion of always having another bottle on hand into consideration as he planned their hasty escape. All too soon Eldarion had started to notice how much lighter his bottle-filled pack was getting; a realization made all the more unsettling and frightening by the fact that he'd seen to it that they used what was in his sister's pack first. There was no way around it: the twins' food wasn't going to last for much longer if he didn't start doing something different soon.

But what was there for Eldarion to do to conserve it? He couldn't very well _not _feed them every time that they were hungry. Unlike Laurelin, who was old enough to understand her circumstances well enough, Meren and Gilraen couldn't be reasoned with. They would continue to cry, drawing the attention of Elbereth-knows-what, until they were satisfied. All that crying would take it out of them too; Eldarion knew that the twins wouldn't survive for too long if they were weak from both exhaustion and starvation and he wouldn't be able to look his parents in the eye again if – when – they were found if something were to happen to them. Nor could he produce more food out of thin air. What he needed was to think of a more creative solution.

The wild berries that he and Laurelin had been nibbling on wouldn't work – they needed something liquid – he could try crushing some of those berries – but that would take too long and not make enough for both of the babies – he needed something that was abundant in its liquid form – like water, except water didn't have the nourishing properties of food – if only he could combine…. That was it! Yes, yes, maybe he could find a way of making what they did have left stretch some more. "Laurelin, stop," he ordered. "Let's top off our waterskins and…and work on making the babies' food last a little longer."

Laurelin looked at him as if she was trying to read his mind and, despite everything else, Eldarion had to hide his smile. He was sure that his proper and girly little sister would be mortified to know that the long blonde hair that she took so much pride in was all snarled and disheveled. She would be equally embarrassed by how her dress was stained by mud and sweat and how she was in dire need of a lengthy bath. Then again, Laurelin hadn't been _that _person since after he'd bested the insane lord and enlisted her help; she'd grown up. Or else he'd grown up; perhaps they both had. "What are we going to do?" she asked.

"We have a bunch of empty bottles – they outnumber the full ones, at any rate," elaborated Eldarion with an excitement that was fueled by desperation. "I was thinking that we take the food that we have felt and pour some of it into those bottles until every one that has something in it is half full. Then we can fill them to the top with water." His heart sank a bit when he saw her biting her lower lip. "What? Is it no good?"

"Isn't that kind of like taking away half of our food and mixing what we have left with water?" questioned Laurelin uncertainly. "That wouldn't be enough to fill us up and it wouldn't be enough for Meren and Gilraen if we did it to them. Besides, drinking water when I'm hungry only makes me hungrier. If they get hungry they're going to cry and we won't have any non-watered down food to make them better if we do that."

Eldarion was a little taken aback. "Well, maybe we could just…do a couple of them…." His voice trailed off as he looked down into each of his baby sisters' peacefully sleeping faces. The lightness of his pack felt even more keen than usual and he knew that he couldn't risk what food they had left like that without some serious thought. "Oh, hang it. Let's just sit down for a minute – I need to think."

The little girl had no arguments against that. With his help in supporting Meren Laurelin managed to carefully settle down next to him. A few moments passed by in heavy silence as he stared out at the water as if in deep contemplation and she tried to look everywhere but at him. Finally she couldn't take the quiet any longer. "Are we going to be all right?" she wondered earnestly.

There was no blame in Laurelin's tone but Eldarion couldn't help feeling that perhaps there should be. What had he been thinking, hauling three little children into the wilderness like he had? They might already have been back with their parents in Minas Tirith if he'd had them follow the cart trail. Yes, maybe Lord Tanondor would have come after them and the rain would have washed it away but that was what whoever was searching for them would have taken – there was a chance that they could have been found by a searcher before the rain it and Lord Tanondor came along. Heck, maybe he should have pretended to go along with the crazy lord's plan; he could have concentrated on subtly protecting his sisters until they got to Dol Amroth, where there would have been a lot of people around to help them get home.

Eldarion stared into Laurelin's face and almost wept. She was so young and trying with all her might to be brave but she couldn't hide the fact that she was scared and hungry. If the babies' food was running low, theirs was almost gone. He'd had them eating berries to keep from using up what they had left but what good would it do to hoard that last remaining small loaf of bread if it went moldy? "Here," he said, reaching into one of the baskets and producing the bread. He carefully broke off two sizable chunks and handed one to his sister. "Have some of this."

"Are you sure?" she asked, desperate to take it but unsure if she should after all of his talk about rationing.

No he wasn't sure; he wasn't sure that anything he'd done or was doing was right at the moment. Oh, he knew that the needed practice at making difficult decisions so that he would know how to do it when he became king but why did his first go at it have to have so much at stake? Still, he could only do what he judged to be best and right now that seemed to be getting a little food and hope into Laurelin. "Of course I am, silly," he said in a consciously light tone.

"Thank you," said Laurelin gratefully, snatching it up and stuffing a quarter of it into her mouth right away. Under Eldarion's gentle remonstrations about eating slowly she forced herself calm down and savor what she could. The two of them sat in silence, thoughtfully chewing the stale bread that tasted better than any meal they'd eaten at home, until none of their chunks were left.

Swallowing her last mouthful, the little girl felt both better and worse at the same time; one look at Eldarion and she knew that he felt the same way. What they both needed was a little distraction. "Please tell me a story, Eldarion," she requested.

"Do you have a particular one in mind?" he asked.

The only thing that she could think of was what she wanted more than anything. "Can you tell me about what it's going to be like when we see Ada and Papa again?"

"It's going to be wonderful," replied Eldarion emphatically without skipping a beat. He sent a silent prayer to the Valar that what he was describing would come to pass before the day was over with. "Ada and Papa are going to be so happy to see us; they're going to kiss us and hug us so tightly and they're not going to let us go until the rest of the family's complainig that they're hogging us gets too annoying. Then Ada and Papa are going to step aside enough so that we can see Daerada and Grandpa Gimli, and all of our aunts and uncles and all of them are going to hug and kiss us too."

"And the guards too," said Laurelin dreamily, a small smile cracking at the corners of her mouth. "And everyone else in the city will be so excited to see us."

Eldarion nodded encouragingly. "That they will," he continued on, letting his daydreams run free. He was surprised to find that he was drawing as much hope from the images in his head as he prayed he was giving to his sister by describing them. "We'll have to be in court for many days so that everyone can come and see for themselves that we're all right. After that Ada and Papa will decide that we've been through enough and don't need to go to any lessons for awhile. We'll have so much free time to play with everyone: Findowyn, Theomir, Elanor, Frodo, and all of the rest of them." He crinkled his nose playfully. "We have a lot of cousins, don't we?"

"I'll say," smiled Laurelin wistfully. She swore to herself that things were going to be different when she got the chance to see all of them again. She was going to be the best girl ever: no more being bratty to Findowyn when the older girl did something to mess up her hair or being mean to Theomir when she felt like being mean to someone. After all, the only reason that he dealt with her meanness was because he liked her so much; and really, there were yuckier boys than Theomir that could be following her around. And she wasn't going to be so obnoxious to Eldarion either; now that they were getting along she couldn't stand the idea of them going back to the way that they used to be and she was going to do everything she could to make sure that it didn't happen.

She felt her insides warm up pleasantly at the thought of being surrounded by so many people who cared about her again. "What else?" she asked eagerly. "Do you think that there will be a party for us?"

"Well, my birthday celebrations is coming up soon," said Eldarion, considering. "I don't know if they'll have enough time to plan another party before then, but I'm sure that they'll say something about all of this sometime during that night. That'll be fun – my birthday parties are always fun, even when there's grown-up things that we have to do at them. Do you remember any of them, Laurelin?"

"All I remember is how I wanted you to dance with me last year," recalled Laurelin in a melancholy voice, as this was not her favorite memory. "You told me that I was pestering you and to go away."

"I'm sorry for that, Laurelin," apologized Eldarion – and he meant it – as he put his arm around her. If nothing else this misadventure had made him appreciate both the little girl and how much she looked up to him on a whole new level. Before all of this he used to imagine how wonderful things would be if she were to vanish but now at the side of the river he couldn't stand to think about life without her. "You have my word right now that I'll dance with you at my party."

"Really?"

"Really," confirmed Eldarion. "You can even have the first dance; you know, the one that they play that official music for every year. Wow," he added, his eyes watering as he stared off at nothing in the distance as the memories and daydreams began to overwhelm him. "I can practically hear the music now."

Laurelin, being young and a pretty literal creature, strained her ears to listen to what her brother could hear and ended up frowning. "All I can hear is cows," she reported in a disappointed voice.

Cows? Eldarion sat up straight and focused his hearing. Sure enough, there was the faint sound of mooing in the air, coming from somewhere in the distance inland. It _had _to be close by if he could hear it at all! "Oh dear Elbereth, I hear them too," he gasped, almost unable to believe it. Since he'd never heard of herds of wild cows anywhere, let alone around Gondor, he could safely assume that they were domesticated. Domesticated cows meant grazing lands, which meant farms, which meant that _people _where somewhere in their general vicinity. "Now I know where we are! We're in the farm country in the northern part of Gondor – we must be farther north than I thought. Oh well, no matter now; what does matter is that there's got to be people somewhere close to those cows."

"People?" she repeated. Her expression became a little fearful as she looked inland. "Are they people like that lord or will they be nice?"

"Nice," said Eldarion firmly. He had to be careful, of course, but from what he knew about these people they were content to do for themselves and be left alone. None of them would be too eager to get in bad with their king by doing something to his children. "I'm sure they'll be happy to send word to Papa and Ada about where we are. What do you say, Laurelin? Do you feel up to doing a little walking again?"

"Are you jesting?" asked Laurelin incredulously, laughing for pure joy as she supported Meren's head and rose carefully to her feet. "You did it, Eldarion; you found help for us. I'll walk wherever you tell me to whenever you tell me to do it."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Beren groaned when he heard Eldacar's excited yell carry through the wind. He'd been so looking forward to the time they had to search apart; he needed it to gather his bearings and douse his temper before he had to face the younger Man again or else he was going to kill him. Now Eldacar was asking him to come and look at something, most likely some broken twig or a rusted tool that some clumsy farmer had dropped two months earlier! They were never going to find the prince and princesses if the other guard was allowed to keep this up unchecked.

Intent on giving Eldacar what for once and for all Beren stalked furiously through the trees, narrowing his eyes when he saw his partner's turned back. He conspicuously cleared his throat and felt his annoyance rise exponentially when the young Man didn't oblige by looking back at him. Fantastic – he was stuck searching with someone who got distracted by simple shapes, slight movements, and shiny things.

"This had better not be" – the older guard started as he walked up to Eldacar, before sight in the small meadow in front of them robbed him of all words.

There were baby bottles strewn all over the ground by a log that was set low in the muddy soil. They were all covered with dirt and other debris that had been stirred up by the storm a couple of days ago, but it was still plain to see that the bottles were full. Both of the guards mind was on the same thing: Tanondor had described how the children had "ransacked" his supplies, wasting many perfectly good things by leaving them behind when they escaped.

Eldacar ran forward, throwing himself on the ground and plucking up one of the precious clues. "It's of too fine a quality to belong to any farmer, peasant or not," he declared with some smug satisfaction as he wiped it clean with his hands to examine it closer yet. "Yes, these are definitely what that bastard packed. See? It's marked blue, just like his stupid color-coding system would have it."

"Which means that this is the starting point of the children's escape," said Beren, elated and willing to let that little bit of rudeness pass by unchecked. He clapped the younger Man on the back. "Good work, Eldacar – extremely good work."

"Thank you," replied Eldacar.

"You're welcome," said Beren, studying the landscape as far as his eye could see. "Now that we can see what they would have seen I can't find any other clear guide around except for the river; so that's what we must continue to follow. We've finally caught their trail, my young friend – I know it."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

The farmer's wife looked up from her cooking when her husband and their eldest son came into the kitchen. "It took you a long time to feed them today," she commented, nothing the scowl on the farmer's face. She offered him a sympathetic smile in response. "And those cows didn't sound too happy."

"It was those little hooligans again," groused the farmer, slamming the bucket he was holding onto the ground and stomping over to sit at the long table that was set a little ways away from the fire during the summer. He had every reason to fume, as he'd complained to said hooligans' father on several occasions and nothing had come of it. "They went and tipped three cows over sometime during the night. Back-breaking work, that is, getting them cows back on their feet. I don't see what reason those children could have to knock them over like that in the first place."

"No good reason – there's just not much else to do around here," pointed out his son as he joined his father at the table.

The farmer eyed him suspiciously. "You best not have ever done that when you were their ages," he said in a tone that warned the son that he wasn't yet old enough not to be taken across his father's knee. The young Man shook his head earnestly and the farmer snorted. "Good. Of all the excuses," he added, scoffing derisively. "If they need something to do they should just come see me. I'll find _plenty_ for them to do; and it'll be honest work too, not making more work for other people."

The Man's wife smiled to herself as she pulled a loaf of bread out of the cooking fire. Her husband came up with that same solution every morning that he awoke to fine a cow tipped over. She couldn't help but love how the childish pranks had roused his spirited nature; she only wished that she could help solve the problem before it started doing bad things to his nerves. However, having no solution to that particular problem she decided to focus on what she could take care of: the bread. It was a little too hot to eat yet. Quickly she transferred it to a plate and walked to over to the window where it could cool in the fresh air.

She was just setting it down on the windowsill when an unusual sight caught her eye. "My dear," he called over to her husband. "There's someone coming up the walk."

"Who could that be so early?" wondered the farmer rhetorically. With a grunt he rose and once again went outside, muttering all the way that it had better not be one of those cow-tipping children unless they were coming to make things right. Immediately he saw that there were in fact _two _people coming up the walk; neither of them looked familiar and he definitely wasn't expecting any strangers. Cautiously he went to meet them halfway up the walk. "What can I do…"

The farmer's voice trailed off when he and the visitors had finally walked close enough to each other for him to get a good look at them. There were actually four people there: the boy and girl that he'd initially spotted walking and two babies that were lying in slings that were tied around either person. They were children, all of them, with no adults with them in plain sight and _definitely _not from those parts. For one thing, although the boy was shirtless and it was hard to see what the babies were wearing the little girl was wearing a dress that was too fancy to be the everyday wear of a farmer's daughter (although it was also too fancy to be as dirty as it was too). No one around there had eyes like theirs in such an unnatural shade of blue either. Most telling – and the thing that the farmer couldn't stop gaping at – was that every last one of them had pointy ears, just like the elves he'd heard tell about.

Elves, elves – the king was married to an elf. The farmer had never seen that elf – he disliked leaving his farm and as long as he had another person to run errands to Minas Tirith when needed he let them go while he stayed – but his son had, and he said that the prince consort was something special. The farmer also knew that the king and prince had children of their own (though he couldn't quite figure how _that _worked), but these couldn't be them. How likely was it that royalty had wandered onto his farm in such a state? "Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, polite, curious, and uncertain.

Eldarion quickly studied him. Neither his eyes nor his instincts could sense anything evil or deceitful about this Man. His initial reaction to the sight of them had been polite without being too smooth, surprised by their appearance without being too rude, and the boy didn't miss how he'd searched the area behind them for any sign of adult supervision. The young prince tested the waters by giving him his most charming smile. "I'd be extremely grateful if you can," he said. He was having a hard time not laughing with utter relief but he didn't want the farmer to think that he was laughing at him. "We need someone to send word to our parents."

"Your parents?" repeated the farmer. "Are you lost? Why did your parents let you go wandering off on your own in the first place? Who are you anyway?"

There was no reason to deny it, not when they needed for this Man or someone else around him to go to their fathers anyway. "I'm Eldarion Telcontar," replied the boy politely. He left off the title, though; it seemed rude to throw that in someone's face when asking for such a big favor. "This is my sister Laurelin and our baby sisters Gilraen and Meren."

Eldarion and Laurelin – dear Valar, those were the names of Gondor's prince and princess; and hadn't there been talk about Prince Legolas expecting again? The Man hadn't heard about him giving birth but news traveled very slowly to them. "My goodness," the farmer breathed, bowing instantly. "You're King Elessar's children!"

"Yes we are and we need your help, please," Eldarion told him pleadingly. He needed a grown-up, not a royal subject! "Our parents don't know where we are and they haven't for about two or three days now. We need to send them a message as soon as possible."

"You mean you've been wandering around by your lonesome for that long?" demanded the farmer, his parental instincts kicking in. No wonder they were so filthy, and the poor boy looked about ready to drop from exhaustion. "Well, come in, come in! My wife's got breakfast almost ready; we'll get some food in you, and as soon as my son finishes eating he'll be happy to run a message anywhere you need it to go."

To be continued…


	28. When hope doesn't fail

The farmer's son didn't quite understand how it all had happened. By all accounts the day had started out just like every other one: he'd woken up at the normal time in the normal way. He'd put on his clothing as he usually did and then met his father to go outside to feed the livestock. Even the tipped cows wasn't so unusual anymore, not since the children from the farm five miles up the road had gotten old enough to sneak over at night; and, as it normally happened, he had to help Father pick them up and then listen to him complain about it for the remaining duration of their before-breakfast chores. After that it was inside, where Mother was singeing the corners of the bread, as usual, and carrying to the window to cool. That's where the farmer's son got all tripped up, for at that point the day like any other day had turned into one of the strangest days of his life.

What were the chances that four little urchins lost in the wilderness would happen to find their way onto his family's farm of all places? And, out of those odds, what were the chances that said urchins would turn out to be the children of King Elessar and Prince Legolas? When Father had gone out to deal with their unexpected visitors, the farmer's son would have never guessed if he'd been given an entire age to do so that he would come in a few minutes later escorting the half-dressed future king of Gondor and his literally filthy little sisters.

Oh well; no matter what happened next the farmer's son had the comfort of knowing that he at least had recognized Prince Eldarion immediately (well, almost immediately; once his mind had registered what was different about their guests and then processed just who was standing in the kitchen), having once seen in the White City about two years earlier. The face had remained in his memory in no small part because he'd been so struck with how much the boy had resembled the king in a more elvish form; something now that he had been grateful for because the recollection had sufficiently broken through his shock enough for him to remember that he needed to bow.

His mother, having never been to Minas Tirith, did not share her son's knowledge and instead of properly bowing had ended up taking one look into their smudged faces before going on and on about what "poor dears" they were. The farmer's son could understand how she could have dismissed her husband's discreet waves to get her attention while cutting him off when the older Man had tried to talk to her; and he could understand why she had shrugged off his own attempts to silence her by tugging on her sleeve; but he for the life of him would never understand how she could have overlooked the fact that they had pointy ears. The young Man, sufficiently mortified, had finally managed to cut off his mother's concerned tirade long enough to inform her as to her guests identities and let her know that she should join him in bowing and Father, taking advantage of the moment of silence, had reported the prince's tale about how they came to be there. The prince had then spoken to them most politely, saying that all the bowing wasn't necessary as he was grateful for any help that they might offer to him and his sisters.

And so it was that breakfast commenced, with Mother pulling out some food reserves that she kept stashed away for emergencies in order to accommodate the extra mouths before filling some of the empty bottles in the children's packs with fresh milk for the infants. She'd taken the baby in Princess Laurelin's sling to feed and fussed when Prince Eldarion politely refused to relinquish the other, insisting that he could not eat until both babies did; but soon enough both girls had been satiated and all hungry mouths had been fed. Now it was quickly approaching midday and the meal was finally winding down. Mother was getting fresh blankets for the twins' baskets, Father was getting ready to resume his busy day of chores, the prince and older princess were still at the table nibbling on the meal's few leftovers, and the farmer's son was on a horse, nervously riding away from the farm.

It wasn't that he was anxious about going to Minas Tirith – the White City was a fine place and he always enjoyed it when his business brought him there in the past – but this was too much. He, who was no one but a humble farmer, was to somehow march into the citadel and demand an audience with the king of Men and his beautiful-beyond-count spouse. The king and prince seemed like very nice people (as much as they could be, at any rate, being city-dwellers and all), but the farmer's son seriously doubted that they would be too receptive to his intrusion. Prince Eldarion hadn't seemed too concerned about that but he had given him a token that the young half-elf swore that King Elessar and Prince Legolas would recognize. The Man could only hope that the monarchs wouldn't jump to any conclusions and have him arrested or anything before he had the chance to explain this strange morning to them.

As he made his way down to the river the farmer's son couldn't stop himself from letting out a sigh. "I've heard that life has its unexpected twists and turns," he said to the only other being that might be able to sympathize with his plight: his horse, "but this is ridiculous!"

His steed put his ears back in what the young Man chose to interpret as an understanding gesture and stooped his head down to get a drink from the waters. The farmer's son got off to indulge in what little time he would have that day not to be on a horse and was rechecking the buckle of the saddle when his day got even odder yet. "You there!" barked out a voice that startled Man and beast alike. "Halt! In the name of King Elessar and Prince Legolas of Gondor, stay where you are!"

Very, very slowly so that he didn't surprise them into doing something rash the farmer's son turned around to see – of all things in those remote parts – two Men in official garb riding up quickly to him. From the style of their garments and their words he surmised that they were from Minas Tirith; the design and colors on their livery made him guess that the older and younger Men were guards of the citadel or some other important place. However, what really struck him about them was how it looked as if they'd spent the last night or so in a ditch while wearing said fancy uniforms. First the unkempt appearance of the children and now this – goodness, had every important person from Minas Tirith wandering around the northern farmlands un-bathed?

"Good morning," said the farmer's son politely, which he would have done anyway even if they were glaring at him with murderous suspicion. "What can I do for you fine gentlemen this morning?"

"We're searching for someone," Beren told him in a scratchy voice. The two guards had just spent the last hour or so riding as slowly as they could bear down the river, calling for the children until their voices got hoarse. He eyed the young farmer that stood before him and wondered how many details he should offer this stranger about their task. "Have you seen anything or anyone around here that seems out-of-place? A noise, something strange that's been left somewhere where it just doesn't go…a stray child or two, perhaps?"

"Boy, have I!" cheered the farmer's son naively, excited at the prospect of having not one but two guards go before him into the citadel already believing his tale. "You're searching for the prince and princesses, correct?"

Beren dismounted in an instant and charged forward like one who was barely sane. The young Man backed up nervously against his horse as the older guard got almost nose-to-nose with him. "You've seen them?" he demanded. He seized the farmer's son by his tunic with both fists and was barely able to keep himself from shaking answers out of him. "I suggest that you start talking right now!"

"Beren, stop," urged Eldacar soothingly, coming up behind his partner and placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. "This isn't necessary, not yet and hopefully not at all. Let him go."

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath that did very little to soothe his nerves Beren forced his clenched fingers to uncurl and slowly brought his hands away from the alarmed young Man. "I apologize," he choked out. "But it so happens that we _are_ looking for the prince and princesses. You've seen them, yes? Where were they when you last laid eyes upon them?"

"In my home!" answered the farmer's son, gesturing in the direction that he'd just come from. "They're at my family's farm, about a mile from here; I would guess that they're still in our kitchen. That's why I'm out on my way now – I'm to go to Minas Tirith to tell the king and prince about that. How fortunate that our paths crossed!"

"Fortunate indeed," Eldacar told him gravely. He could only imagine what might have happened to the poor family that was sheltering the prince and princesses if the guards had stumbled across them apparently doing nothing to reunite the children with their parents. No guard – not him and _definitely _not Beren – would have been willing to believe their claims that someone had been sent to Minas Tirith. "You would not have found King Elessar and Prince Legolas there. They are somewhere searching in the wild."

"Oh no!" cried the farmer's son in dismay. "I must see them – I promised my parents and the prince and princesses that I would. Could either of you tell me where I could find them?"

The older guard crossed his arms and stood firm. "You don't need to know where they are right now," he said in a no-nonsense tone, his eye twitching slightly. "You're not going anywhere until you lead us to where the prince and princesses are. Once we see that your story is true or not – that they are there, alive and unharmed – we will talk about the manner in which you'll be brought before King Elessar and Prince Legolas."

"That's reasonable," replied the farmer's son cautiously. So they _were_ more important than normal citadel guards – they were members of the royal guard. They must have started their searching as soon as they had discovered that the children were missing; which, according to Prince Eldarion, had been two days at least – quite a long time for a protector to be separated from those whom he was supposed to protect. It was little wonder that the one guard had almost attacked him when he brought up the prince and princesses so casually. "I can take you there right now if you so please."

"Trust us," said Eldacar dryly as Beren darted back to his horse. "We do so please."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Eldarion was finally feeling somewhat normal again as he sat on the bench by the table with his feet curled up under his legs. He had declined the farmer's wife's offer to fill up a tub with warm water for him and his sister to bathe in – he did trust his hosts, but not enough yet to let himself leave him and his siblings in that vulnerable a position – but had delighted when the kind woman had brought into the kitchen some washing cloths and combs before heating up some water over the fire. Once he and Laurelin had washed their hands and faces and he'd helped her run a comb through her unruly hair the boy was again thrilled by the farmer's wife's generosity when she brought him a tunic that had once belonged to her son to wear. The feel of the fabric against his skin harshly made him aware of just how badly his exposed skin had been sunburned but it was nice to be wearing a shirt again all the same.

Now that he was more or less put together again he could more fully appreciate not having to worry about where his and Laurelin's next meal would come from or how long the babies' food was going to last. His dear little sister was sitting beside him in a plain dress (borrowed from their benevolent hostess while the kindly woman let Laurelin's mud-stained dress soak), eating some fresh vegetables and looking quite content. The farmer's wife was across from them feeding Meren. Gilraen was stretched out in front of him on the bench while he finished pinning a diaper that wasn't made out of one of his tunics into place. Scooping her up into his arms Eldarion decided that this was about as good as life could get until their parents finally came for them.

The farmer, taking longer than usual to collect the supplies he would need for the day's chores out of fear that one of the children were hurt or sick in a way that they didn't realize yet and his assistance would be needed, finally opened the door to head outside and stopped short. "What in the name of all that's good in Middle-earth?" he wondered, annoyed in the way that fathers tend to get when their children do something that makes absolutely no sense to them as he stared out at the second unexpected sight of the morning. "What is that boy doing back here so soon? And who is it that he's gone and brought back with him?"

The next person who spoke was not one of the children, his wife, or his son but someone entirely different altogether. "Prince Eldarion! Princess Laurelin!" called a voice that was very familiar to the two half-elves, though they'd never heard it so panic-stricken before. "Where are you?"

"Goodness!" squealed Laurelin in delight, thrilled to hear someone that she knew. Her blue eyes were wide as she grinned up at her big brother while outside the sound of horse footfalls came very close to the house and then suddenly ceased. "That's Beren! Hello, Beren!"

A wordless cry came from outside and seconds later the farmer leapt back as an older Man in a disheveled guard's uniform burst into him home. Beren knew that it was rude of him to do so but he couldn't bring himself to care; all he cared about at that moment was seeing the faces that belonged to or accompanied that wonderful greeting. "My sweet princess! My brave prince!" he cried, his eyes filling with tears when he at last laid eyes on them.

Stumbling he rushed forward, falling to his knees in front of the children. Laurelin was quick to fling her arms around him happily; Eldarion had his arms full already but he did lean into the Man's arms when Beren carefully hugged him as well. One twin was too busy eating to notice him (although the guard did watch the baby for a good amount of time to make sure that she was all right and the stranger holding her wasn't doing her any harm) while the other cared more about playing with her brother's hair than about his entrance but Beren was heartened to see them looking well. It was all that they could have hoped for come true and the Man sent a silent thanks to the Valar for protecting the children when he couldn't.

Eldacar had entered right behind him with the farmer's son. The children recognized him at once and gave him bright smiles as he too made his way over to them and assessed their well beings. "Are you hurt in any way?" he asked.

"No," replied Eldarion.

"His back hurts," reported Laurelin at the same time.

"I've got a sunburn," rescinded Eldarion when Eldacar and Beren looked at him with distress. "It's nothing."

"Let me see it," requested Eldacar. The prince complied, turning so that his back was facing the young guard, who lifted up his new tunic to see the damage. "It's not too bad; just a few patches of red here and there. I have some aloe in my pack," he added, putting down the tunic to root through his belongings and pull out a vial. "It could have been a lot worse. A _lot _worse…oh Valar, we've all been so worried about you! The poor king and prince" –

"They have been doing everything in their power to find you," interrupted Beren abruptly, sending his partner a meaningful look. It was not their place to tell the children all about what their parents had endured during their absence; especially not now, when they'd been through so much already. He hoped that Eldacar realized that too.

Eldarion's ears perked up at the mention of his beloved ada and papa. "Does that mean that they're not in Minas Tirith?" he asked, almost bursting with how much he longed to see them. The guards shook their heads. "Are they close by, then? Where are they?"

"About ten leagues south of here, searching for you," replied Eldacar, taking Beren's hint. "Not as far away as the White City, but not terribly close either. We'll have to push hard to get you back to them before the sun sets." He turned to the farmer. "Do you have any carts or wagons that we may borrow so that we can take the prince and princesses to their parents?"

The Man shook his head. "Not at the moment," he said apologetically. "I let my cart to a farmer up the river a few days ago."

"Then we'll simply have to bring the king and prince here," said Beren, thinking more clearly now that he knew that the children were safe. "Without having to haul a cart the horses could possibly be able to get to them in time so that they make it here before nightfall. You go, Eldacar; and take this young Man with you," he added, nodding to the farmer's son. "King Elessar and Prince Legolas will want to hear what he has to say. I will stay with the prince and princesses until your return."

The young guard nodded and with one final look of joyous relief at the children he exited with the farmer's son at his heels. The door had barely shut behind them when Beren held out his arms toward Eldarion. "Please allow me to take the princess, my prince," he asked kindly. "It's all right now. You should get some sleep – you look exhausted."

_Exhausted_ didn't seem like an adequate enough word to describe the fatigue that he was feeling. Now that there was someone around that he knew and trusted completely to watch over his sisters he felt the days' worth of sleep he'd missed come crashing down on him full-force. "I would really like some of that," Eldarion almost sobbed.

He handed the child over and managed to tell Beren that the baby that he was holding was Gilraen and that she would be hungry again soon before falling asleep where he sat. The farmer came over and gently lifted him up, carrying him into the next chamber over. There Eldarion was settled into a comfortable chair, where he did not stir for hours.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"Why is it," asked Gimli as he wiped his brow and squinted through the bright afternoon sun to glance at Legolas, "that the laddie feels the need to go to see a bunch of trees first thing every time that we move to a different area?"

"He is asking them for information," replied Thranduil as he watched his son lay his palm reverently on the trunk of a majestic oak tree. He frowned and bowed his head when Legolas' shoulders sagged a little. "It is the trees that will hear the rumors of the land long before we discover them, so it is in them that he places much of his hope."

"But what would these trees know that the ones back there didn't?" persisted Gimli, frustrated at the thought that Legolas' hopes were repeatedly getting dashed when there was nothing that he could do to stop it. "And will they tell him if anything changes and they do find something out? Aüle, I've been a part of this family for almost twenty years and I _still _don't understand how it all works with elves and talking trees!"

Aragorn was only half-listening to his father-in-law's exchange with the exasperated dwarf. While it was strangely comforting to once again hear them carrying on like an old married couple, just as they used to do in happier times, the other half of his mind and attention was focused solely on the search; and such banter, amusing though it might be, was proving to be a distraction. "At least Legolas is doing something _useful_," he spoke up, not caring to take the time to be more subtle.

"Aye, and so are we," Gimli told him sagely, ponderously stroking his braided beard as he watched Legolas move on to another tree. "We're taking the time to be worried about him and you both, since neither of you seem too concerned about taking care of yourselves. Your husband has been through so much in not a lot of time and I was just making sure that he wasn't starting to crack."

"He's not," said Aragorn somewhat shortly. He did a preliminary scan of the surround land for any signs of obvious hiding places, shelters, or paths but none were evident. "But please let me be there if you ever suggest to him that he is."

Gimli opened his mouth to retort something witty but Thranduil cut him off with a pointed glare. "There is no time for that now," he scolded them both, though – to Aragorn's grim amusement – the elven king's eyes never left the dwarf. "Come with me, my friend; Elladan and Elrohir have already taken it upon themselves to search the western part of the perimeter. Let us take the eastern part and put this verbal nonsense aside! There will be plenty of time for it later, after our grandchildren are back with their family where they belong."

Tugging at Gimli's collar in a way that struck Aragorn as a mother cat retrieving one of her kittens, Thranduil pulled him for a few steps before the dwarf accepted that they were doing what the elf ordered and started walking on his own. They passed by Legolas going the other way, back to his husband's side, and they tried to ask him how he was; but the prince only offered a fleeting answer before he continued on. Something had him riled up, Aragorn couldn't help noticing, and he appeared intent on filling the Man in on what he'd just found out.

"Aragorn," said Legolas urgently, grabbing his love's arm.

Aragorn's heart immediately started beating faster. "The trees know something about the children?" he asked anxiously, desperately, as he seized his husband's hand.

"Nothing beyond the vague rumors and faint whispering that all the previous trees heard about," reported Legolas. His spirit was somewhat dampened at this reminder that he had no new information about their children but he wouldn't let them stay that way for long. He'd simply lost or almost lost too much already to give up hope; and beside, said spirit was still sparked by what he did know. "But they hear tell of people coming. The trees say that two riders are seeking us out; they are apparently causing quite a disturbance as they do so."

"Now what?" groused Aragorn. The optimist part of him was elated, half-expecting that it was news – good news – that the overall search had not been in vain; but he could not bear to get his hopes up that high only to have them dashed. After all, they had had very little in the way of good news as of late and the possibility of it rushing to meet them now seemed very unlikely.

"Now nothing," responded Legolas as he looked over his shoulder. "We wait for it."

The Man followed where his husband's eyes were turned. "Do you know how far off they are?" he wondered.

"I can faintly hear their horses' footfalls," Legolas told him, quieting his mind to listen to the sound and to his instincts. Suddenly a wave of calmness washed over him and he was left with a strangely content feeling. He shivered at the burst of emotion.

This was not overlooked by his husband, who looked at him with great concern. "I'm all right, melanin," said the elf before Aragorn could ask the question. "It was just – odd. It felt like, for an instant all of this was behind us." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Anyway, they are coming from the south. Judging by how fast it sounds like they're riding I would guess that they'll be here in about fifteen minutes."

There was nothing else to do but carry on as they would have if no one had been riding up to them at all and wait for whatever was coming; and that was exactly what the royal couple did. As they walked along bent toward the ground in search of some clues, however, Aragorn couldn't help noticing that a certain lightness had returned to Legolas' step and demeanor. That had to be a good sign – Mithrandir had always said that Legolas possessed a penchant for foresight. Aragorn had witnessed this several times during their lives together and believed it to be true even when the young elf usually brushed it aside as just strange feelings. Perhaps they were about to get a little bit of luck at last after all. They were certainly due for it.

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes had passed before Aragorn too heard the footfalls; from two horses if his senses hadn't utterly failed him, just as Legolas had reported. The sound drew the attentions of the twins, Thranduil, and Gimli too, and they all started making their way back to the royal couple while trying to maintain the façade that they were giving them their space. The muted thunder of the footfalls escalated until at last the two riders came into sight: the guard Eldacar and another young Man whom no one there recognized.

"King Elessar! Prince Legolas!" shouted the guard frantically, and he had every right to feel frantic. After leaving the farm Eldacar had made his way south along the unfamiliar trail of the river with only the farmer's son's sometimes cloudy memory to guide him. When they'd finally come to the place where the king and the prince were supposed to be they'd found it empty – a natural consequence of productive searching, not looking over and over the same area, but a source of panic nonetheless. Eldacar ended up having to go farther south than he would have liked, all the way to the base camp so that he could find out where they were. Now the day was growing old and the chances that they would be able to make it back to the farm anytime before tomorrow were fading fast.

The couple rushed up to meet him as the young guard and his counterpart slowed their steeds to a stop. "What news?" demanded Aragorn immediately while his heart pounded very loudly in his ears.

"They're all right," announced Eldacar, who looked ready to weep with joy. "I've seen them with my own eyes and they're _fine_, all four of them."

"Our son and daughters? You've _seen_ them?" asked Legolas ecstatically. His delighted cry carried over to the rest of the family and they made haste to come over and hear the news for themselves. Eldacar nodded so enthusiastically that it was amazing that no one heard his brain rattling. "Thank Elbereth! And thank you, Eldacar – this will not be forgotten! Where are they now?"

"On this Man's family farm," answered Eldacar promptly, indicating to his travel companion. The young Man in question stared in awe when the prince smiled up at him. "We didn't have any way of bringing them down here; so Beren stayed behind with them while we came to find you."

"I want to know everything," ordered Aragorn, elated and desperate for more information. He looked over at the stranger. "How did the prince and princess come to be on your land?"

The farmer's son was unable to speak at first. It was too much for his beleaguered mind to process; he hadn't had a chance to recover from seeing Prince Legolas smile like that (if he lived as long as elves did, he knew, he would never see a more beautiful sight) and now the king was speaking to him directly. Before he could take the time to properly take it all in King Elessar cleared his throat impatiently and the Man remembered all that could happen to him if he displeased a monarch.

"They came up our walk and Father invited them in and Mother made more food and I was sent out to let you know where they are, your majesties," reported the farmer's son quickly and with one breath. He panted heavily as he reached down to his waistband. "I don't know all of what brought them to the farm; all Prince Eldarion said was that they had been walking, and that their parents didn't know where they were. He also bade me to give you this so that you'd know that I'm telling you the truth."

He brought forth the token given to him by the boy and placed it carefully into the outstretched hands of the king, who grasped it as if it were a priceless treasure. "It's Eldarion's hunting knife," he announced to the others. It was far too bloody for everyone's tastes to be owned by a twelve-year-old boy – the crown prince had obviously not had the time to wash it – but they knew from Tanondor that Eldarion had taken it with him. There was little reason to doubt hope now – identical grins spread across the twins' faces and a thrilled Gimli clutched at Thranduil's hand.

Legolas took the knife from his husband gingerly, as if he was afraid that it would vanish upon closer examination, examining it for himself. "Smart boy," he whispered. "Taking it from that awful Man and sending it to us once he'd found a safe place." He sprang forward and embraced Aragorn, planting an enthusiastic kiss square on his lips. "It's almost over, my love; our children are safe and we're going to see them again!"

"Yes, as soon as we can," agreed Aragorn. He looked up at the sun and frowned at its position. "You two have our eternal thanks. Now, see to it that your horses get some water and whatever rest they may. The day is growing old and we will have to ride out again soon if we have any hope of returning to your farm before we have to make camp for the night."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Eldarion stared out of the kitchen window in dismay as he watched the world outside grow darker and darker. The sun would almost be set soon and he knew in his heart that his ada and papa wouldn't be able to navigate through the unfamiliar lands at night, at least not without a remarkable guide – and they would have none with them. Not even the smell of food cooking could cheer his heart at that moment. "I thought that they'd come today," he lamented softly.

"My prince? Please come away from that window and get something to eat," coaxed Beren gently. The boy was reluctant to oblige but seeing the crestfallen expression on Laurelin's face moved him. He went to the table and sat between his sister and the guard, putting a comforting arm around her. Beren smiled at this and squeezed his shoulder. "You will see your parents again soon; even if they must wait for first light tomorrow to finish their journey here."

"He's right, Laurelin," Eldarion managed to smile. Although he couldn't help feeling disappointed he knew that he had to be strong or else he'd further upset the little girl. Trying to put it out of his mind he thanked the farmer and his wife for the food and busied himself with getting his little sister's plate filled up. "What do you want to have first" –

"_Eldarion! Laurelin! My dear babies!"_

The boy dropped the piece of bread he'd been holding. "Ada! That's Ada!" he cried, grabbing his beaming sister's hand and rushing them both to the door without asking to be excused. "Ada! Papa! You're here, you're here, you're here!"

Aragorn and Legolas saw the door of the humble farmhouse fly open and heard the responding cries but still could not let themselves fully believe that the nightmare was really over until at last they beheld their two eldest children with their own eyes. The sight of Eldarion and Laurelin running toward them hand-in-hand was almost too much for Legolas' senses to take on and he nimbly jumped down from his horse before the animal had completely stopped to get to them. Aragorn followed suit, almost tripping in his stirrups as he dismounted in what was not the safest fashion.

Running as fast as they could – which never would have been fast enough – the four met halfway on the walk in the dying light of dusk. Eldarion fleetingly remembered his wish that morning that they would be back with their parents again before the end of the day and as the royal couple fell to their knees and drew him and Laurelin into a four-way embrace he knew that were finally safe.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you," sobbed Aragorn to whoever was responsible for their happy reunion. "Oh, I love you two so much, so much."

"Are you two all right?" asked Legolas, pulling away from his children only enough to check to see if all of their limbs looked unharmed an intact. Eldarion and Laurelin nodded and he was relieved to see that there was nothing evidentially wrong with them, not even Eldarion's sunburn that Eldacar had told them about. "You're both perfect - I should have remembered how perfect you are, mysweet, sweet children. We were so - but now you're here - I love you both more than I can say." He threw his arms around them again, delighted to be able to hold them once more but keenly aware that two other people were missing. "What about your sisters? Where are they?"

"My king, my prince," spoke up Beren as he came up behind the two children. The farmer and his wife followed, each with one of the infants in their arms.

The king of Gondor and his prince consort, along with their older children, rose to their feet and accepted Gilraen and Meren from the farmer and his wife. It was a difficult task holding each baby close to their bodies in a way that the other parent could readily see each one but Legolas and Aragorn were very experienced at that sort of thing by now and managed to pull it off. "Hello, Meren; hello, Gilraen; have you two forgotten who we are?" whispered Aragorn softly.

Identical pairs of wide blue eyes stared up at them, asking their parents not who they were but what had taken them so long to get there. "No," said Legolas with a quiet happiness that was so intense that it almost hurt to feel it. He bent down and kissed both infants. "It would take a lot more than this to make our daughters forget us." He tore his eyes away from his children long enough to look at the couple who had temporarily taken them in. "Thank you so much for what you've done."

The farmer and his wife began to bow but Aragorn would have none of that. "You have sheltered our children; gave them food, water, and clothing; and used your time and resources to return them to us," he said solemnly. "And we will have to continue to impose on your hospitality until tomorrow, if you will allow it. As far as I am concerned, from this day onward you bow to no one."

To be continued…


	29. Night changes many thoughts

_A/N: The title to this chapter most will recognize as a line from the extended edition of The Return of the King; it belongs to Peter Jackson, et al._

Life (or fate, or the Valar, or whatever else one chose to think of it as) worked in such funny ways at times, responding to a person's deepest hurts and fondest wishes in the strangest and most mysterious ways imaginable. This was a pearl of wisdom that the farmer's wife had dispensed on several occasions to anyone she thought needed it; it was something that her mother used to tell her, who in turn learned it from _her _mother and so on, and now she was darned if she didn't learn that it happened to be true. Working busily at her hearth to clean all the pots it had taken make enough food to fill all of the empty stomachs in her home she couldn't help but thank life, fate, the Valar, or whoever that for a short time things in the farmhouse were as they should be.

The farmhouse had been feeling too empty and quiet for the farmer's wife's tastes as of late. Up until about a year earlier it had been filled every day with love and life, and her table surrounded by more than just her husband and their eldest unmarried son. Then one summer afternoon as the whole family was sitting down for lunch an urgent message had come to her youngest son and his wife: the young woman's father had died suddenly and unexpectedly. Aside from this being a painful tragedy personally it was also a terrible blow in terms of her family's livelihood: their farm was now in the care of the Man's grief-stricken widow and two sons who weren't old enough to handle the work and responsibility of running it.

The farmer's wife couldn't fault anyone for what happened next, though she often lamented the need for it. She was indeed very proud of her youngest son for deciding to take on the responsibility for his wife's family himself. However, this required him to pack up his wife and their infant daughter and move a considerable distance away from the only home that he'd ever known. For the farmer's wife, losing them had made her own him much too quiet; with no granddaughter crawling around the sitting chamber while she worked on the mending, no daughter-in-law to help out with the chores and keep her company while the others were out tending to their own chores the hours of her life had gotten to be long and lonely. Often, mostly in the middle of the afternoon when her husband and youngest son had been out for a couple of hours and would continue to be gone for a few more, the older woman would wish that just for once the walls of her home were once again bursting with family, love, and life.

How was she supposed to know when she awoke that morning that by nightfall that very wish would be granted in the most ludicrous way possible? An explosion of raucous laugher coming from around the table jarred the farmer's wife out of her musings. She glanced over her shoulder and found herself marveling at the odd variety of people who was filling her home with the powerful sense of family that night. Elves, half-elves, and Men of higher ranking than anyone who had been in her home before were scattered all around the table, acting as if there was nothing that they wanted to do more than break bread with her and her family.

After hearing so many tales about the greatness and dignity of these people it was a novelty to see that all the noble blood, citadel livery, and pointed ears in the world didn't stop them from doing things that she herself had done on many occasions. The most powerful Man in Middle-earth, King Elessar of Gondor (he had invited them to call him Aragorn in his post-reunion euphoria but the farmer's wife seriously doubted if she or her family could ever really oblige him), was changing the diaper of the baby stretched out before him on the bench. Prince Legolas, reputedly one of the most beautiful beings in all of the lands – and now that she'd seen him she wholeheartedly believed it – lovingly cradled the other infant while happily teasing his husband about the Man's supposedly sub-par diaper pinning technique. Beside their elvish father the crown prince and eldest princess played a nonsense game that involved a lot of hand-clapping; and the two guards of the highest rank kept one eye on the two children while deep in conversation with her husband and son about whether or not the more fantastical tales about the Battle of Pelennor Fields during the War were actually true.

While intellect and experience told her that he'd done the same task many times before the farmer's wife couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable about just standing back and watching the king toil away at his labor. After all, he _was_ her liege lord as well as of noble blood and she'd never heard of a lord and noble changing a child's diaper before. Surely there were countless nannies back in that fancy citadel in Minas Tirith that took care of that sort of thing on a regular basis; no-nonsense women who would think poorly of her for not coming to her king's aid when she had no reason not to.

Setting aside her cooking ladle she rose to her feet. "Please, my king," she spoke up, walking humbly to Aragorn's side and instinctively bowing her head. "Let me tend to the princess; you need not bother with" –

"Oh yes he does," asserted Legolas with a playful sort of firmness as he smiled up charmingly at the farmer's wife. "Four children under his belt and this Man cannot even pin a diaper properly. Track a virtually invisible trail across a bunch of barren rock for leagues and days on end is no problem; negotiating treaties and agreements with other realms and between kingdoms that have hated each other for years is par for the course; but to this day he still cannot manage to see to it that our daughter's diaper stays on when it needs to."

The woman stared at him, not certain of what to make of his remonstrations. "It would be no trouble, really," she insisted.

"Do you hear that, Aragorn?" asked Legolas, leaning over to kiss his husband's temple. "You're doing so poorly that our good hostess is too distracted by it to let it continue. I love you with all my heart and soul, Aragorn, but this is not to be borne. For shame, melanin; for _shame_."

"For shame nothing," retorted Aragorn smugly, scooping up little Meren and triumphantly patting her still-covered bottom when the diaper did indeed stay in place. "What say you now, my love?"

"Miracles happen?" suggested Legolas cheekily.

Aragorn smirked sarcastically. "Just because I don't do it your way doesn't mean that the way I'm doing it is wrong," he argued. "This is how my father taught me to change a diaper and it would be hard even for you to dispute his knowledge in this area."

"You seem to forget that I spent a lot of my youth in Rivendell, Aragorn," said Legolas. "I know many stories about that place and your family. There was one in particular that always seemed to circulate during the more inebriated parts of a dinner or a celebration: it was the one involving twin infants not entirely unlike our own, Lord Elrond, and his theory that the Lady Celebrian was wasting too many pins at each diaper change. No matter who tells it, the tale always began with such confidence and expectations and ended with hope drowning in a…river, so to speak."

"One miscalculation and you're branded for life," complained Aragorn, defensive for his absent father's reputation's sake. "He learned his lesson long before he got around to instructing me."

Eldarion, who had of course been listening to their lively exchange with a sense of hominess and utter relief that things were getting back to normal, dissolved into giggles. "Aye, but _you_ didn't," he guffawed, his frame shaking so violently that he missed Laurelin's hand entirely at a very important juncture of their game and ended up almost falling backwards. "Remember when you were being a pain about having to stay in bed until it got to the point where you annoyed Ada into making you change the twins' diapers all of the time?"

"I shouldn't have been doing that at all," Aragorn defended himself. "I was a little lightheaded at the time."

"That's not what you were telling me," piped up Legolas with a mischievous grin.

Eldarion shook his head. "Well, I can't say one way or the other about how light your head was," he said, falsely reproachful. "All I can do is remind you of how _that _little punishment led to some disgusting stuff!"

"Keep in mind, my prince, that this was after _years_ of practice too," chimed in Beren as his own conversation ended in a decision to agree to disagree. He'd been around the royal family for so long that he was practically a part of the family in his own way but propriety and a sense of duty had always kept him from taking such an active role in their debates before. That night, however, he smiled warmly as the day's wonderful events emboldened his mind and tongue. "Just imagine how much worse it was when you were first born…"

"Oh, I give up," groused Aragorn dramatically, throwing one hand up in the air briefly. Legolas gave him the sweetest, most sympathetic fake smile ever and patted his bearded cheek. "My husband, my son, even one of my guards – I'm surrounded by disloyalty everywhere I look! What about you?" he added suddenly, turning his joking eyes onto the hovering farmer's wife. "Do you see anything wrong with they way that I'm tending to my daughter?"

"I – uh – I," – she stammered nervously, feeling very put on the spot. The prince consort's fresh burst of laughter did nothing to soothe her. "I didn't – well, I wasn't paying too much attention…"

Legolas felt sorry for the poor woman and managed to swallow the rest of his laughter. "Aragorn, stop it," he scolded his husband, though not under any pretense of anger. The last thing that the woman looked like she could handle at the moment was to think that she was bearing witness to an actual quarrel between the realm's monarchs. "I must apologize, good hostess. We have scandalized more than one person with our – how should I put this – informal nature when it comes to interacting with our family. We can be a bit much at times, especially if the mood strikes us; and it is your bad fortune that you happen to be catching up on one of the more extreme of those times."

"Thank you for your kind offer," added Aragorn, toning down his demeanor in turn. "I agree with my dear husband: it's difficult for us to behave properly when we're this happy. I apologize if we've caused offense in any way."

"Oh," blushed the farmer's wife. How strange it was to have two such important people apologizing to her! "There was none taken. Think nothing more of it, please."

A somewhat awkward silence followed for a few seconds before Laurelin broke it all of the sudden by yawning loudly. "I'm sleepy," she announced, rubbing her eyes with her small fists. She crawled over Eldarion to get to Legolas' lap; the boy, seeing that said space was already occupied by Gilraen, stopped her by wrapping both arms around his sister before she left his lap. Laurelin accepted this gesture without a fuss; happily, even, as she immediately curled up against him and snaked her arms around his neck. Eldarion rested his cheek against the top of her head and started rocking her gently.

This was unheard of behavior on both of their parts and both Legolas and Aragorn noted the change with no small amount of wonder. To the two children, however, it now felt like the most natural thing in the world; and when Laurelin let her eyes drift open to look at her fathers she didn't realize that they would find it unusual. "Is it bedtime yet?" the little girl asked them.

"I could use some sleep as well," agreed Eldarion, feeling very tired all of the sudden. His long nap earlier had but partially caught him up on the rest he'd lost. Now that the emotional high of finally being reunited with his ada and papa was beginning to coast off it felt as if he hadn't taken any nap at all. "I think that makes it bedtime."

"I hear that," concurred Eldacar, and Beren nodded in accordance. "My king, may I suggest that now is as good a time as any to discuss the sleeping arrangements?"

"You may, but I wouldn't know much about that," Aragorn told him dryly. He looked over at the farmer and held his hand out to him in a gesture of respect. "Good sir?"

The farmer thought fast, doing a quick mental count of all the beds that were in the house and figuring out which ones were unspoken for as of yet. "We have two bedchambers that are currently unoccupied," he reported in a slow, thoughtful voice. "One belonged to my other son and his wife before other obligations took them away from here; there's a double bed in there that I daresay is comfortable enough. The other chamber was their daughter's nursery; it has a crib that you might be able to fit both babies in if you laid them end-to-end."

"There's a bed in there too," his wife spoke up. "It's a little too small for two adults, but more than one person can get in there if one of them is on the small side."

"I'm afraid that's the end of the beds," the farmer went on. "But there's a chair in the sitting chamber that's comfortable; and we can also bring some pillows and blankets in here and turn the table into a bed. It's not exactly as soft as a mattress or cushion but it's not the floor either, and this part of the house always stays warm."

"That sounds very workable," said Beren reasonably. "Thank you both for your generosity. My king, my prince, you two should take the bedchamber. The prince and princess will probably fit into that bed in the nursery. Eldacar and I will be happy to bunk in the kitchen."

"You two will take the bedchamber – Legolas and I will stay in the kitchen," edited Aragorn casually but with resolve. The two guards and three civilians opened their mouths to protest but he cut them off with a wave of his hand. "You wish to go to bed now, correct? Well, my husband and I do not; we have some things to discuss with our hosts before we turn in for the night – if they are willing to oblige us, of course."

"Of course we are," said the farmer, half-curious and half nervous about what they had to say that could wait until morning.

"What sense does it make, then," continued Aragorn, "for the both of you to have to wait until the kitchen is free to go to sleep when there's a bedchamber waiting for someone elsewhere?"

Eldacar saw the logic in this but wasn't quite placated. "Is this to your liking, my prince?" he asked Legolas.

"You act as if I've never slept on a piece of wood before," noted Legolas amusedly. "Strange, as I know you've seen our talan in the city. Don't worry about me – as long as my children are under the same roof as me I am content to sleep anywhere."

The loyal guards couldn't argue with this no matter how much they wanted to and reluctantly bade everyone a pleasant night before accepting a couple of clean blankets from the farmer's wife and retiring. Aragorn and Legolas surprised everyone left by settling the twins into their baskets and placing them on the table before the woman and her husband. "Will you watch over them for a moment?" requested Legolas politely. "Aragorn and I will be right back after Laurelin and Eldarion are tucked in."

"We will be happy to," replied the farmer, a little confused as to why the infants were staying behind when the older children were going to bed; but it was not his place to question the parenting decisions of his king and prince. "You get to the nursery by going through the sitting chamber to that corridor. It's the first door on the right."

"Thank you," said Legolas sincerely.

With that the elf gently took Laurelin from her brother, scooping the little girl into his arms and smiling softly as she buried her face into his neck. Eldarion got up sleepily and ambled along between his parents, his papa's arm slung around his shoulders, until they easily found the nursery. The bed in there was small indeed and wouldn't have accommodated even a larger Man and a child but the children fit into it with relative ease. It wasn't as soft or comfortable as their beds back in the citadel but after two days of sleeping on the hard and muddy ground the mattress felt like paradise. The two siblings didn't even bother to ask for night clothes before climbing under the cozy patchwork blanket; they'd grown used to sleeping in their day ware, the garments lent to them by their hosts were more than comfortable enough for one night's rest, and they were simply too tired to change.

Laurelin was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow but Eldarion was too bothered by something to let sleep claim him so quickly. "Why did you leave Gilraen and Meren over in the kitchen?" he asked his parents and Aragorn pulled the cover up around his shoulders and Legolas leaned over Laurelin to kiss his son goodnight. "Wouldn't it have been easier for you to get us all down for the night at the same time? I could have helped put them to bed."

"They are down for the night – they're going to be staying in the kitchen with us," Aragorn informed him as he too planted a kiss on the boy's brow. "It just makes sense. If they stayed in here your ada and I would have to navigate through a dark and unfamiliar house to get to them every time that they cried, undoubtedly disturbing both you and your sister before we managed to get here to calm them down. This way you and Laurelin get to sleep through the night without them waking you up and your ada and I won't be tripping over everything to make it here before they stir the entire household. There's hardly enough room in the crib for the two of them for there to be any real difference between it and spending another night in their baskets. They'll be fine, my son."

"I guess so, but…" struggled Eldarion awkwardly. He was unsure about what he was feeling and if it was proper, and had no idea as to how to convey it to his fathers in a respectful manner.

"But what?" wondered Legolas, confused. He could see the exhaustion in Eldarion's face – why was the boy so reluctant to accept a good night's sleep? Then the boy glanced anxiously at the crib that stood opposite the bed before turning his attention to the door and the elf understood. He walked around the bed to sit down next to his son and lovingly embraced him. "My sweet Little Acorn," he soothed, "the twins are all right – you don't have to take care of them any longer. I know that it's difficult to let go at times, but your papa and I are here now. It's our job to watch over all of you and now I'm telling you that it's your job to take care of yourself tonight."

"I know," said Eldarion ruefully. "And I won't miss having to take care of them all night and everything. But in a way I will – does that make sense?"

Aragorn shuddered at the memory of the odd, foul mood that Legolas had fallen into when their son had first gotten old enough to move out of their antechamber and into his own bedchamber. The Man had foolishly rambled on about how it could be seen as a blessing that their son didn't need them around as much, a statement that had led to a grand argument that resulted in him spending the next week in a cold, lonely bed while his fuming and stubborn husband slept in Eldarion's bedchamber. "It does," he assured him. "That just means that you're your ada's son."

"I don't mean anything bad by it," explained Eldarion uncomfortably. "It's just that it's hard to stop feeling like I should be the one watching over them."

"We'll have to keep that in mind on the nights that your ada and I long for some rest," said Aragorn, gently teasing him as his husband stood up and laid a hand on his arm. "But for tonight, just sleep."

Eldarion still couldn't help fretting about the distance between him and Gilraen and Meren. Just then his ada leaned down and murmured "sleep" in his ear; and the boy was seized by a sudden drowsiness that was impossible to resist. "All right," he yawned, falling back against the pillow as his leaden eyelids slipped shut. "Good night…"

The prince's voice trailed off, followed soon by quiet snoring. Legolas looked sufficiently satisfied and Aragorn had to shake his head. "What was that?" the Man whispered as he and his husband left the chamber, shutting the door behind them as silently as they could manage. "A little, as the hobbits once called it, elf magic to get our overly anxious, exhausted son to fall asleep? You've never done anything like that to me, have you?"

"Usually when you can't sleep there's a reason why I think you deserve to stew," Legolas teased him. "And I've never understood what the hobbits or anyone else mean when they talk about elf magic. Our son needed to get some rest and that's what my father used to do for me when I was in that type of mood. No magic, my love; just me."

Aragorn stopped them both, moving around so that they were standing face-to-face, and put his arms around the elf, bringing their foreheads together. "There is something magical about you, Legolas," he murmured lovingly.

It was only supposed to be a quick, tender moment between them but as soon as he uttered those words Aragorn felt his knees start to buckle; and in front of him Legolas' jaw was quivering as he visibly struggled to keep his emotions in check. Alone for the first time since they were reunited with their children, the memories of the last couple of days – the confusion about what was happening, the grief over losing a child, the fear of losing the others, the anger they'd felt toward each other, and the pain and eventual joy of healing both themselves and their rift – slammed into them full-force. What if fate had contrived things differently and none of them had found their way to that farmhouse? What if it had been kinder and the children not taken in the first place? The situation had been resolved as best as it could have been under the circumstances but it would never be a total victory: Legolas and Aragorn would always carry that seed of suspicion when it came to trusting their children with anyone outside of the family, Eldarion and Laurelin would bear some emotional scars for life, and there was a little soul that had been released from the confines of the world before she had a chance to live.

Aragorn's hold on Legolas tightened as the elation mingled with grief inside of him. Thankfully (or not) Legolas understood all too well and embraced him with all of the love and support that both of them needed. Together they remained in that narrow corridor in each other's arms for quite a long time.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"We're sorry that we took so long," apologized Aragorn when he and Legolas finally returned to the kitchen.

The farmer and his wife had obviously put their time away from the king and prince to good use. The remainder of that night's dinner's plates had been totally removed from the table and the surface had been thoroughly cleaned. The twins were nestled in their baskets, now sitting on one of the table's benches, staring up at the flickering candles that still sat on the table. The farmer's wife sat dutifully next to them but the farmer was nowhere in sight. "Where is your husband?" inquired Aragorn. "Did he get tired of waiting for us to come back?"

"Goodness no, sire," spoke up the farmer as he reentered the kitchen. His arms were laden down with fresh blankets and pillows, precariously maintaining their balance as he walked. "I told you that I would talk with you after the children got settled in and I'm a Man of my word. I just left for a minute to get some bedding for tonight."

"Let me take those off of your hands," offered Legolas, swiftly relieving him of his burden.

"That's not necessary, really," protested the farmer awkwardly, not sure of what to make of the prince – or the king, for that matter. He watched with a level of amazement as the royal couple efficiently arranged the pillows at one end of the table and set the blankets down right beneath them so that the covers were all set to be laid out later but not currently interfering with the talk that was about to happen. They certainly didn't behave like he expected nobles to behave; he didn't know exactly what that meant but he did know that he appreciated it.

Aragorn shook his head. "We insist," he asserted. "You've done so much for us already; the least that we can do is make up the bed that we'll be sleeping in."

"But you won't be," replied the farmer, somewhat dismayed and feeling like he had somehow deceived them – albeit unintentionally. "My wife and I discussed it while you were tending to the prince and princess: it would be more appropriate if we gave you the master bedchamber and took the kitchen ourselves."

"How would that be appropriate?" debated Legolas with a frown as he moved the babies' baskets to the top of the table. His heart warmed when Meren smiled up at him, apparently approving of the change in her location. Gilraen, who was fighting sleep with everything she had, was decidedly less pleased; she made a face that was so reminiscent of Gimli when the dwarf was frustrated to no end that the elf had to titter about it just a little. How many times had he seen _that _expression in his life?

"Well," said the farmer's wife a bit tongue-tied, for she hadn't expected them to do anything but immediately accept the offer. "You're…and we're…being you and all…"

"I for one wouldn't feel right about taking your bedchamber from you when there's an acceptable alternative," Legolas informed her. "And I'm sure that Aragorn feels the same way."

"But it'll be mighty uncomfortable sleeping on this old thing," argued the farmer's wife in her characteristic fussy manner. "After all you've been through with your children and all I don't want to be the one responsible for providing you with the worst place that you've ever slept on top of it."

That was so utterly ridiculous that it was a small miracle that Aragorn was able to slide down next to his husband without doubling over in laughter. "Ma'am, I can assure you that this doesn't even come _close_," he said matter-of-factly. "I once spent the night on the soggy ground near the Dead Marshes with a crawling little wretch who was determined to sink his teeth into my leg. And there was the time I was in the Wild with the Nazgul on my tail."

"Don't forget about Moria," chimed in Legolas. "Or about every place that we stopped for the night between Minas Tirith and Mordor before that last battle before the Black Gate."

"Now that I think about it, that tiny room at the Inn of the Prancing Pony in Bree wasn't all that great either," nodded Aragorn. "And at least you two more than barely tolerate me being here, unlike Butterbur – except for that last stay, of course. So you see, good woman and sir, compared to those other places this kitchen is nothing short of luxury accommodations. We'll be fine here."

"Well, if your mind's made up we're not going to tell you no," said the other Man with a shrug of his shoulders. He sat down next to his wife, across from the royal couple, and folded his hands on top of the table. "Now, you wanted to talk to us about something?"

"Yes," Aragorn told him. "Your reward."

Their reward? The farmer and his wife didn't know what to say to that. They'd already been graced with the presence of the royal family, treated with so much respect, even told that they need not bow anymore – all for doing something that they would have done for anyone. They could understand King Elessar and Prince Legolas' desire to reward them – there were no words to convey the pain and fear of not knowing where your children are, nor to express the relief once they've been found and the gratitude you feel toward the person who found them – but the last thing that they wanted to do was take advantage of them in their generous state. "What more reward do we need?" the farmer asked carefully.

"You have gone above and beyond in your service to the crown," elaborated Aragorn earnestly. "This earns you the favor of the king and prince of Gondor and that comes with rewards."

"We will make restitutions for all of the food we've eaten and the time we've taken up, of course," added Legolas, waving his hand when the couple tried to insist that it wasn't necessary. "You're incredible hospitality is well noted but we don't want to leave you worse off because of our acquaintance. What more would you ask of us? More livestock? More land? Money? Jewels?"

"I could make you an official lord and lady of Gondor," offered Aragorn.

This was getting downright absurd! "Us – a lord and lady?" asked the farmer incredulously. "What would we do with that?"

"Well, everyone would have to call you by your title and recognize your high standing in society," said Aragorn.

"But we don't really see other people on a regular basis," responded the farmer. "Although I guess we could sit around and call each other 'my lord' and 'my lady'."

The farmer and his wife looked at each other wide-eyed for a moment before breaking down into hysterical laughter. That proved to be contagious and soon Aragorn and Legolas joined in. "Lord and lady!" hooted the farmer. "My lady, have a good afternoon washing the undergarments while your lord shovels manure!"

"Maybe we could make the cows curtsy every time we feed them," chortled his wife.

"I must confess that I see little use in titles like that," admitted Aragorn, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Still, people seem to like them, so I thought I'd give you the choice." The laugher subsided and he took a deep breath. "Seriously though, we bid you ask us for something. Please; it's the least that we can do."

"But I can't think of…" the farmer's voice trailed off and he looked quite pleased with himself as a smile curled his lips. "Actually, there _is_ something that's been bothering me lately…"

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

A sigh escaped from Legolas' lips as he burrowed back under the covers of the makeshift bed. The next day a carriage from Minas Tirith would undoubtedly arrive for them and, after they saw to the farmer's request, they would take their children home. At that moment in the dead of night the gravity of that weighed heavily on him. "All's well?" mumbled Aragorn in his ear as he spooned up behind the elf.

Legolas' eyes pierced through the darkness to where their twin daughters were now – thankfully – asleep. "For now," he repeated in a deliberately light tone. "There's no dirty diaper out there that's a match for me; just remember that next time it's your turn."

"I didn't mean it like that," Aragorn told him. "There's something on your mind – I can almost hear you thinking. What is it? You can tell me anything."

"I know," responded Legolas, and this time his voice was very weary. "It's just – this evening has been one of the happiest ones that I can remember us having in a long time, but it can't last. The real world is pressing down on us, melanin; we're going back to the White City tomorrow, where all of it is waiting. We're going to have to conduct Tanondor's trial, attend Lord Eärnil's funeral…plan a funeral of our own."

Ah; there was the true root of Legolas' restlessness. Aragorn put his arms around him, letting his hands slide down his arms until they were covering those of the elf's that were resting on top of his stomach. "I don't know how to do this, Aragorn," confided Legolas with quiet pain. "I don't know how to bury one of our children."

"I don't know either," whispered Aragorn into his ear. "But we'll figure it out together; privately and in our own way. Just like how we'll figure out how to tell Eldarion and Laurelin what happened." He squeezed his eyes shut to hold the tears at bay. "Oh Legolas, they're old enough to realize what's happened, but how can they understand it? I don't even understand it."

"The truth has served us well in the past; there's no reason for us to abandon it now," replied Legolas quietly. He pressed down comfortingly on the Man's hands and found himself smiling wistfully when the arms around him tightened in response. "The real world awaits us, my love, but we aren't back in it yet. Let us rest now while we can; I dare say we'll need it come tomorrow."

To be continued…

_A/N: This story now has over 200 reviews. Thank you so much to the people who have taken the time to send them in._


	30. Goodbyes and a return to reality

It was noontime of the next day and all of the inhabitants of the farmhouse, both the permanent and the temporary ones, were gathered once more around the long table in the kitchen. It had been a hard morning's work for all of them; Aragorn and Legolas had insisted that the guests would do their part in the chores and the farmer had plenty for them to do. It had been a long time – too long, both of them thought – since the monarchs had worked with their hands and bodies like that and it had felt surprisingly good to feel that ache that muscles got after a good workout again. Legolas had assisted the farmer's son with the crops, Aragorn had taken on mending some of the shutters on windows that had been damaged during recent storms, Eldarion and Laurelin had followed the farmer as he tended to the livestock, and their good guards had been assigned to help the farmer's wife keep an eye on the babies – and whatever else she needed some extra hands in doing.

And now it was lunchtime and everyone was eager to enjoy the fruits of her labors and theirs in the kitchen. Hands were flying all around as people snatched up pieces of bread, fought playfully over use of the water jug, and gestured wildly while their owners spoke animatedly and all at once about the morning's events. "I love this place," Eldarion enthused to his parents. "This may sound odd, but it's a little like some of the best parts of Minas Tirith and Ithilien while being something else that's just its own."

"That doesn't sound too odd to me," Legolas assured him. "The indoor comforts of the world of Men and the connection to nature that is so much a part of the world of elves – but in a way closer to both."

"There's livestock here too," grinned Eldarion, for he loved animals and was good with them. "I got to feed the cows and tend to the horses; then we had the time to weed the vegetable gardens" –

"The prince here is a natural at that," interjected the farmer. He nodded to Laurelin, who was thirstily drinking down her water. "The princess too; I could swear that I actually saw those plants growing when they were watering them. I've never seen anyone so young take to it so fast."

"Both he and she were helping out in the gardens of Minas Tirith as soon as they were able to hold a spade properly," Legolas informed him with a great deal of pride. Perhaps once things settled down in the White City once more he could take them out there again – it felt like ages since last he'd taken on any major gardening project and he keenly missed working with his hands and good earth. "And those are no mere flower beds, mind you; they are pieces of nature that one can comfortably walk through without feeling like they're going in circles and looking at the same tree all of the time."

"I've heard tell of those from my boy," nodded the farmer, glancing at his son (who was in fact no small boy, though the farmer would always call him that for the rest of his life). "I always thought that he had to be exaggerating just a little, but apparently not. That would explain this morning, then."

"How so?" wondered Aragorn curiously.

The farmer affectionately tousled Eldarion's brunette hair, grinning like a mischievous grandfather when the boy crinkled his nose and ducked. "I was just asking myself how a couple of city dweller children could have thumbs that are so green," he explained with a fond glint in his eyes. "And why it seemed so natural that they be out in the gardens at all. Now I understand."

"Yes, and their fathers certainly didn't live as 'city dwellers' before the War," declared Aragorn. "Legolas is an elf of the Woodland Realm, where all things both tame and wild grow; and I was brought up in Rivendell, which has wonders and beauties in nature that are beyond count." He sighed wistfully, remembering the garden that he used to spy on Legolas in when he was ten and in love for the first time. "I don't think that I will ever really get used to having stone beneath my feet instead of ground. I envy you in that regard, good sir: you walk on the free earth every day. I miss that."

"Sad," commented the farmer sorrowfully. "But then again, I don't suppose that a king would have the time to take for himself just to walk around outside of the city."

"Why not?" asked Legolas rhetorically, turning to smile at his husband. Aragorn saw an eager light in the elf's face that he hadn't seen in awhile. "We could at least make a point of walking the grounds outside of the gates a couple of times a week. We used to do that a lot, and take the children too; but then there got to be more and more to do and that fell by the wayside. This is the first time in months since we left the walls of Minas Tirith; being surrounded by all of that stone for so long stifles the heart and soul."

Maybe that had been a part of their problems too. The advisors hated it when the prince consort and especially the king left Minas Tirith for any period of time; it made the guards uneasy too and they tended to hover like overprotective mother hens whenever it happened. For years Aragorn and Legolas had told them politely but firmly that they would do what they wanted to do when it came to their personal time and everyone else would just have to deal with it. Gradually, however, without them even realizing it, the couple had given in more and more – an 'all right, I suppose that I don't _need_ to travel to Rohan' here; a 'well, I _did_ just go to Ithilien last months' there – until, with the exception of a pregnant Legolas' jaunt to see his people in Ithilien, neither monarch had set foot outside the city in several months.

That, however, was going to change soon. "It's a date, then," agreed the Man wholeheartedly. He playfully kissed Legolas on the mouth just to make Eldarion groan and roll his eyes. "Who knows? Maybe one day we might be so compelled as to bring our children along with us. Maybe."

"Ada! Papa!" objected Eldarion good-naturedly. "If you leave me within those walls while you to go out and have fun all the time I will never forgive you."

"_I _never said anything about leaving you behind," cried Legolas, as it was his turn to protest. "Now you're simply going to lump me in with your papa when he threatens to do so?"

"It's just easier that way," replied Eldarion puckishly.

"You little imp!" proclaimed Legolas, springing forward suddenly and catching the boy in a fierce embrace, rocking him side to side. Eldarion growled in protest but that only made the elf laugh. "Might I remind you that he wasn't the one who couldn't sit up without support right after your birth? Mind you, he deserved to be the one who couldn't sit up, but that was me, my dear boy. I take all those pains to bring you into this world and now you refuse to even separate your papa and me in your mind?"

Prince Legolas' teasing comments reminded the farmer of something that he'd thought of when he'd first laid eyes on the royal children the previous morning. It had been something he'd wondered about since he'd first heard that the kingdom was getting its heir over thirteen years ago but he'd never held much hope that the question would ever be properly answered. He knew that it wasn't exactly the most appropriate inquiry to make to anyone, let alone a monarch of his country, but this might be his only chance to ask. Besides, he seriously doubted that anyone would lock him up for it at this point. "I beg your pardon, my prince," the Man cleared his throat. "May I ask you a question? I'm afraid that you might find it a little too personal."

"You can ask me anything," answered Legolas jovially, pausing from rocking his son but not quite ready to release him yet. "I can't promise that I will always answer but you, my good host, are more than welcome to ask away."

"I understand" – the Man stopped and lowered his voice. "I understand that it was you who bore and delivered the prince and princesses," he continued. This wasn't a secret or anything, nor was it something that the king and prince seemed the type to be ashamed of, but still it wasn't right to shout about other people's bodies and affairs in front of a crowd. This went double when it had to do with something so personal. "But you are male. How was that possible, then? Is it something that is fairly common among elves or do the Valar place a generous amount of blessings upon you? And if it is the latter, do you know when you are getting the blessing so that you can better prepare for it or was each one of your children a complete surprise?"

He regretting not keeping his curiosity in check almost instantly, for at that moment the prince grew paler than usual and a look that told of a great grief came to the elf's luminous eyes. "I'm sorry" –

"Every child is a gift from the Valar," interrupted Legolas, talking in an unnervingly quiet voice. "I didn't know that any of them were on the way until at least the second…the first month of pregnancy."

"All right," responded the farmer kindly, quite content to give up on future inquires and leave the mystery of the prince and princesses births just that – a mystery.

Eldarion didn't miss his ada's haunted reaction to that innocent question or the way that he hugged his stomach while answering it; nor did the way that his papa wrapped his arm around Legolas' shoulder and pull him closer escape the boy's attention. He didn't understand the reasons for it; this wasn't the first (or the second, or the hundredth) time that someone had asked him that very question, with varying degrees of politeness and tones of approval. To his knowledge, neither Legolas nor Aragorn ever reacted quite like that to even the rudest, most judgmental person.

The one thing that truly caught Eldarion's interests, however, was the elf's labored correction from two months to one month when reporting at what point he'd found out about each of his pregnancies. That didn't seem right. It had taken two months with the twins, he remembered that quite clearly. He also distinctly remembered Aragorn fussing about how his husband was entering the second stage of pregnancy before finding out that he was pregnant for the second time, so that one month didn't refer to Laurelin either. It wasn't him either – five or six months, his parents had told him; and from what else they'd told him he was certain that they would have welcomed knowing as early as one month along that he was on his way. So where else could that whole 'one month' thing come from?

Perhaps he would have asked about then and there, accidentally dragging up the recent painful episode before his parents were prepared to tell him about it, if he'd had the time. However, the close-yet-still-distant sound of horse footfalls, wheels turning, and snatches of familiar songs drifting through the open window ended the boy's questions at that time.

Beren was the first one on his feet to investigate, racing over to the window before his king could even issue an order. "Your majesties, our good hosts!" he announced happily, looking over his shoulder and smiling knowingly at them. "Lord Gimli is currently coming up the walkway in a carriage with King Thranduil riding at his side. The lords Elladan and Elrohir ride before them."

"Wonderful," declared Legolas, letting out a long breath that had a shakiness to it that Eldarion didn't understand but was sure that he didn't like. "Come, come, my dear children! This will be but the first of many joyous reunions in your near future. You are about to be hugged so tightly that you'll find out how many ways your bodies can be crushed without breaking a bone, and wept on until your garments are thoroughly soaked. There's no point in putting it off any longer."

"Why would we want to?" asked Laurelin, tittering at how ridiculous her ada acted at times. She slid off of the bench and grabbed her brother's hand. "You're silly, Ada. Come on, Eldarion!"

Eldarion knew that it would be futile to do anything but comply with her wishes. "All right, all right, just don't pull my arm off!" he cried jokingly. Then, after giving his ada one last assessing look he allowed the little girl to drag him away. He reminded himself to ask about Legolas and Aragorn's strange behavior at a later time, but that slipped his mind in the excitement that followed.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

"I still say that we should have waited for one of those guards to come back and lead us here," asserted Gimli once more as he and his elven companions rode cautiously up the small path to the humble farmhouse that the directions they'd been given had led them to. "That is, if _here_ is truly where we're supposed to end up."

"We have already promised Legolas and Aragorn that would start out for here at first light," insisted Thranduil in a tone that way anything but argumentative. How glorious it was to be seeing his grandchildren again! He couldn't have waited for anyone to come back first even if he'd wanted to. "Besides, that would have delayed our reunion with Eldarion and the girls another day at most."

"Aye, but we'd be guaranteed to be seeing them," countered Gimli, eyeing the house suspiciously before he leaned back in his seat on the carriage and turned back to the elven king. "I don't know if I trust those directions that we got. That guard – Eldacar – he was pretty unsure about every which way we were supposed to go and turn and that farmer seemed to be more than just a little on the empty-headed side."

They were so involved in their bickering, friendly debate that they didn't notice the door to that farmhouse swinging open. The twins, however, did; and Elrohir suddenly cleared his throat conspicuously. "If I may be so bold," he called back to them, though the appearance of the sight that he'd been longing to see for days kept him from glancing over his shoulder as well. "But if you're quite done with all of that bickering, or flirting, or whatever the gossips are calling it these days, I suggest that you look ahead. There you will see ample proof that we have _not _been led astray."

"_Uncles! Daerada! Grandpa Gimli! Unc-Dae-Gran-cles-rad-pa Gi"-_

Eldarion and Laurelin's cries of greeting got jumbled up in their excitement, so much so that it was difficult to make out what they were saying; but that didn't matter. None of it matters, for there they were, running hand-in-hand out of the door and toward their family. They were not dead, not half-starved; it didn't even look like they were injured. It was all that Gimli and the elves had wished for and more than they could have expected. But really, now that they thought about it what else should they have expected from Aragorn and Legolas' miracle children?

It was a wonder that the dwarf and three elves didn't trample each other in their haste to put their arms around the children as soon as was physically possible. "Look at you two," sobbed Thranduil, who unsurprisingly beat the others and engulfed his two eldest grandchildren in a massive embrace. Two young headed rested on each of his shoulders and it was hard for anyone who saw not to smile through their tears. "You both are perfect."

"Not a scratch on you," observed Gimli. This was not technically true but he hadn't meant it in a literal sense anyway. Elbowing his way past the twins he nudged one of Thranduil's arms out of the way. "Move over; you're hogging them!"

Eldarion let out a sobbing laugh as he felt his daerada reluctantly relent just enough to make room for Gimli. "Some things never change, do they?" he asked wryly.

"And some things do, I see," noted Elladan, remembering how his nephew and niece were clasping hands. The Eldarion and Laurelin of old would have been trying to trip each other on the way down the path. "The hobbits send their love too. They would have come with us, except there wasn't room for all of them without bringing a parade of carriages and they couldn't find a fair way to choose which one of them could come along with us. It's so good to see you both again, by the way."

"You haven't _seen _them yet," groused Elrohir. He shot his best Elrond-like withering look at the elven king and dwarf lord; a wasted effort, as both of them had their backs to him. "All right, enough of that! There will be plenty of time for hugs and gushing and a whole lot of weeping later, but first I must insist that Elladan and I examine them. They could be in need of a healer and just not know it yet."

"They're fine," Gimli protested, but he backed off and silently coaxed Thranduil to do the same. They were not healers, after all, and if anything, their recent experience had taught them that when it came to the children's well being it was best to err on the side of caution. "I just ask that once you see that they are truly as sturdy and sound as mountain dwarves you hand them right back over to me."

"Listen to them, Aragorn," sounded a voice coming from in front of them. "Our family is fighting tooth and nail over our two eldest children like they were some prized commodity or something while ignoring the fact that we have two more who would like their attention just as much."

Thranduil let loose a joyous cry when he looked up to see his precious son and the Man standing there with two baskets full of lovely, _healthy_ baby girls. "Oh, I shall never neglect them!" he declared, practically leaping all the way over to see the infants. "Hello, Meren; hello, Gilraen. You have not forgotten your daerada, have you?"

"Ada, you make it impossible for anyone to ever forget you," said Legolas in a long-suffering tone; but he was smiling as he watched his father bend over and kiss Meren's brow.

He started to say something else, something cheeky and smart, but a movement from behind him caught his eye first. He looked over and was not happy with what he saw. "Please, you don't have to do that," he protested in vain as the farmer, his wife, and his son walked around everyone, each with a bundle in their arms. Most of what they had belonged to the children – their freshly-laundered garments and such – but there were also food items and a couple of blankets in there that definitely belonged to their hosts.

"Nonsense," declared the farmer's wife as she resolutely plopped her burden down in the carriage. "You've got a bit of a journey ahead of you; I doubt you'll be able to make it back to Minas Tirith before nightfall and it won't do to camp out a night without a few little odds and ends. We're happy to given them to you and help you get on your way."

"Getting a little tired of us, are you?" asked Aragorn with a teasing twinkle in his eyes that turned sincere when Beren and Eldacar came with all of their horses. "You're generosity continues to humble me to the last. Thank you for everything. You can expect some deliveries from us in the next few weeks, and if there is anything that you ever need please do not hesitate to ask us."

The farmer took his king's offered hand and firmly shook it. "You're a decent fellow," he stated, and then nodded to Legolas. "You both are. I always knew that you're great people but it's nice to know under all of the titles and fancy mumbo-jumbo you're decent fellows too."

"Thank you," smiled Legolas. It was a shame that it had taken so much loss, tragedy, and near-tragedy for him and his husband to remember that there was more to them than the King Elessar and Prince Legolas parts. "It's nice to be reminded of that every once in awhile."

Soon enough the children had to say goodbye to their kind hosts and clamor onto the carriage with Gimli, who was very smug that he would be getting them all to himself whenever their party was on the move. Legolas was next to say his goodbyes, and did so with a heavy but grateful heart. "Farewell, my friends, until our next meeting," bid Aragorn as he mounted his horse, the last one to do so. "And don't think that we've forgotten our promise to you! I daresay that after today your farm will have considerably less problems…"

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

Laurelin and Eldarion sat at the edge of their fathers' bed, waiting for Aragorn and Legolas to get finished putting the twins down for their afternoon nap. Apparently their parents had something to tell them – something serious, judging by the expression on the Man's face and the catch in the elf's voice when he asked them to wait in their bedchamber. Neither of them had given any hints and Laurelin was baffled, but Eldarion guessed that it had something to do with him and his sister having to move back into their own bedchambers. It had been well over a month since the two of them had spent the night in them and now that the danger had passed it was probably time that they all resumed their normal lives. Certain that there wasn't anything too serious to be concerned about Eldarion didn't feel at all guilty about the fact that he and Laurelin were currently doubled over with laughter.

Perhaps it wasn't so unusual that the two siblings were doing this; after all, a lot had happened in the last couple of days that deserved exactly that kind of reaction. For one thing, there had been the scene that the people of Gondor had made upon their reentrance to the city the afternoon of the previous day. Being greeted by throngs of people cheering was no new thing but to have that crowd cheering for _them_ and not their parents was not something that either Eldarion or Laurelin were used to. They would have found the shouts of "Hail the victorious Prince Eldarion!" and "Behold the brave Princess Laurelin!" flattering but amusing then had they not been too exhausted and relieved to be home after their ordeal plus another night of camping out after leaving the farm to register the absurdity of anything that was going on around them.

There had also been the matter of their reunion with the hobbits. Sam, Merry, and Pippin had decided to forego the confusion of the crowd by the gate and instead waiting with their broods for the royal family to make their way back to the citadel. To be greeted by a group of hobbits with goofy grins plastered on their faces was an experience that everyone should have at least once in their lives, Eldarion decided; for their happiness was sincere and there were few other times in his life when he had felt more welcome and loved. All Laurelin had to do was squeal with delight when she saw them and all of them charged, clamoring to be the first ones to embrace them. Their hobbit uncles beat the rest to the children and then engaged in a merry battle to see who got the first honor to try to fit the boy and girl into his arms at the same time first until Merry, Pippin, and Sam decided to band together and surround the children, Aragorn, and Legolas all and practically smother them with their love and attention.

If he hadn't been so overwhelmed, the crown prince might have taken note of a bit of a melancholy exchange between Legolas and Estella Brandybuck. The elf had been holding Gilraen at the time and Estella had been staring at father and daughter with a combination of apprehension and anticipation. Legolas had nodded to acknowledge her and then looked down at the baby in his arms. The hobbit lass hesitated for a second before shaking her head. 'Later,' she'd mouthed to him, gesturing to the crowd swarming all around them. Some things had to happen when there weren't so many people around and working past what was left of her fears and guilt so that she could uphold her end of her bargain with Legolas by holding the infants was one of them.

There was also the matter of the next reunion that had taken, with Faramir, Eowyn, and their two children. While Aragorn was thanking his steward for seeing to it that Gondor didn't fall apart politically whilst he was otherwise occupied and Legolas spoke with Eowyn in a low voice, answering her inquires about his well being, Findowyn had approached Eldarion. It had been awhile since the adoring boy had laid eyes on his crush and his face had turned crimson when she noted how much older he seemed now before hugging him and telling him that she was glad that he was back. He'd been so happily surprised by her actions that he almost – but not quite – missed seeing Laurelin giving Theomir a kiss on the cheek and the subsequent way that the little boy had looked ready to float away.

The first was rife with some unkind amusement at the people's expense for exaggerating (in their opinions) what Eldarion and Laurelin had accomplished since their kidnapping. The second filled the siblings with a giddy delight; and the third was, at least in earlier days, the type of situation that the two of them would have spent days teasing each other mercilessly about. Yet none of these were what had left the prince and princesses in fits of laughter. What they were currently talking about had happened before any of those had, soon after leaving the farm that had been their haven when Aragorn and Legolas had insisted on taking a little side trip. There was a matter of fulfilling a promised they'd made to the kindly farmer, and that involved going to another, nearby farm so that the king and prince consort of Gondor could have a little chat about responsibility and respect with a group of cow-tipping children.

"I still can't get over the looks on their poor mother and father's faces when they saw up pull up and Ada and Papa coming up their walk!" giggled the little girl, covering her mouth with her hand so that she wouldn't make a lot of noise and keep her younger sisters awake. "And then when Ada and Papa asked to speak with their children! I've never seen anyone's eyes get that huge before."

"Neither had I – until those children came," laughed Eldarion. "I can't believe that Papa actually told them that the cows weren't to be tipped anymore because everyone on the farm, including all of the livestock, now had the favor of the crown! 'I was a young Man once too, a long time ago'," he added, mimicking Aragorn's tone and inflections perfectly. "'But there are pranks and then there is what you've been doing, which I deem akin to vandalism. It would be a shame if all of you headed down such a dishonorable path so early in your lives, especially since the only place where that path leads to is the dungeons of Minas Tirith'."

"I don't think our dear host will have any more troubles from them," said Laurelin. "Between Papa having one of his talks with them and Ada giving them one of his Looks I don't think that they'll be brave enough to take one step off of their own land anytime soon."

"I should hope so," spoke up Aragorn from the doorway. He and Legolas smiled, albeit a bit sadly, at their son's reaction when Eldarion realized that they had been able to sneak in without him noticing it. Shutting the door behind them so that they wouldn't disturb Meren and Gilraen's slumber, the Man shook his head. "I would hate to think that I was losing my touch when it comes to unruly children. Besides, their actions proved that they were not ready to be trusted with so much freedom yet. I'm just glad that _we_ have well-behaved children – don't you agree, Legolas?"

The elf prince managed to give his husband a small, closed-lipped smile. "We could not ask for better," he concurred, wrapping his arms around his stomach tightly as if he were cold. He looked over at them, the smile freezing on his face when he noticed that Eldarion's joy had dimmed somewhat and that the boy was now studying him inscrutably. "But enough about that," he added, and there was something of a cross between contentment and resignation in his tone. "How do you fare, Eldarion, Laurelin?"

"All right, I suppose," replied the boy ponderously, his eyes still on Legolas as Laurelin lifted up his arm, flopped against him, and sighed tiredly. This was not the first time that his ada had made such an out-of-place gesture since their reunion. He wondered why that was, for he knew that elves didn't normally get cold. "We're glad to be back, that's for sure. It does feel a little weird though, but I can't put my finger on why."

Legolas sat down next to him and stroked his long, dark hair. "It's hard to pick up the pieces of your normal life after so much has happened," he told his son wisely. "Especially when you have changed but the world around you has not. It will take some getting used to but soon you'll find that this growth is to your benefit, once day-to-day life goes back to the usual thing."

"Is that why you wanted to speak to us privately?" asked Eldarion. "I understand that we must go back to sleeping in our bedchambers" –

"No," interrupted Aragorn automatically before he took the time to think about what he was saying. "No – I mean, yes we're worked things out with the guards and had locks added to the entrances of the hidden passages, so your bedchambers _are_ safe to sleep in now; but that's not what we wanted to talk to you about."

He closed his eyes briefly, summoning within him the courage to tell them about Legolas' miscarriage and the strength he would need not to fall apart while he did so. Kneeling down before them, he took one of Laurelin's hands with one hand and one of Eldarion's with the other. "There's – there's something that happened while you were – were gone," he forced himself to say gently and in the calmest tone possible. "Something that your ada and I wish with all of our hearts that it hadn't. It won't be easy to hear but this is something that we cannot and should not hide from you."

"Is this about Lord Eärnil?" asked Eldarion solemnly, blinking back tears in his eyes. He'd noticed the blood that had been on his knife when Tanondor had first pulled it on him but hadn't had the time later to ask himself where it came from. The boy had been horrified to learn that it was there because the insane Man had killed his supposed friend when the lord had refused to stand idly by and watch the prince and princesses get kidnapped. Eldarion hadn't known Eärnil any better than he did the other noblemen but his parents had liked the kindly old Man well enough and it made him sad to know that an honorable person like that had died because of Tanondor's madness. "I overheard some of the guards talking about it."

"I'm sorry," said Aragorn, a little taken-aback by this revelation. "That's not how I would have had you find out about that."

"I'm glad that I know," Eldarion tried to reassure him. "I'd like to attend his funeral too, if that's all right. It feels right that I should be there."

"You may go; I believe you've earned the right to make a grown-up decision like that," said Legolas thoughtfully, "but that is not what your papa and I wanted to talk to you about today." He looked down into his eldest children's innocent faces and almost wept, for he knew that they would be losing a bit of that innocence now. After all they'd been through it was unfair to put them through more pain and anguish; but then again life wasn't fair and he wouldn't be doing anyone any favors if he tried to make it fair for them by pretending that his miscarriage had never happened. "My dear Little Acorn; my sweet Laurelin; there is no easy way to put this so I'm simply going to say it: the morning that – that you were taken I found out that I was pregnant" –

"Again?" interrupted Laurelin at the worst possible moment. "But that's good news, isn't it? I think it is! Do you know if it's a boy or a girl yet? When's the baby going to be born?"

The Man saw his husband falter under her questions and squeezed Laurelin's hand to draw her attention to him. "The baby," he choked out. Eldarion's jaw tightened when he too looked at his papa. Drawing in a deep steadying breath Aragorn plunged ahead. "The baby is not…she was already born; but it was much, much too soon…"

Eldarion glanced, dazed, between the devastated expression on his ada's face and the tears that were glistening in his papa's eyes. His heart sank and it was all that he could do to keep from crying himself. "You mean you lost the baby?" he asked, barely able to get his voice above a whisper.

"Yes," confirmed Legolas in one emotionally charged word. He put his arm around Eldarion and the boy could feel how his ada was trembling. "There's going to be…we're going to plan a funeral for her…"

"Wait!" cried a confused Laurelin desperately. She understood that her parents were sad and that it had made her brother sad too, but this was too much. Having a _funeral_ seemed like such an odd thing to do in this sort of situation. "If the baby's lost then why can't we go out and find her? I mean, we were lost and then found! You two are so good at finding things; so are the guards, and Eldarion gotten good at that too. I can help too, if you think it would help…"

"Oh Laurelin," said Legolas in a strangled sob as he reached around in front of Eldarion to grab her and pull her onto his lap. "It's not the same kind of lost that you were; the baby is lost to this world. She – she died, my sweet girl."

"Died?" repeated Laurelin in horror. That didn't make any sense to her. Old people died; sometimes warriors died too, or at least that's what she'd heard in tales; and on occasion people died because of the wickedness of other people. _Babies _weren't supposed to die, not babies who hadn't even seen the world yet.

Her ada hugged her close and buried his face in the top of her hair. Laurelin could feel moisture and knew that he, her brave and wonderful ada, was crying. This was not to be wondered at; he had had the baby inside of him, after all, and had known her better than the rest of them. She wanted desperately to be strong when he was so sad but she couldn't stop herself from weeping. "Ada – Papa – I'm – I'm – I'm – I'm – so – sor-sorry," she gasped out between sobs.

Aragorn moved forward and pulled Legolas, Laurelin, and Eldarion all into his arms. Slowly Legolas reached out to him with one arm, then Eldarion to both of his parents, until all four of them were embracing each other. "It's not your fault, my daughter," the Man told her, his own voice thick with tears. "It's not any of our faults."

Eldarion rested his head on his papa's shoulder. "It's that Man's fault," he muttered with a quiet ferocity that only reached Aragorn's ear. Tanondor had kidnapped him and his siblings, murdered another person while doing so, and now, he found out, he also brought about his ada's miscarriage – and therefore was responsible for the death (_'murder; it was nothing short of murder'_) of one of his sisters. Eldarion bitterly remembered how he'd vowed to protect his sisters from Tanondor's insanity felt an intense and helpless anger.

"Now is not the time to assign or take on blame," asserted Aragorn, clutching at Eldarion a little tighter. "We should only be thinking about how to say goodbye to her and about being there for each other. The rest," he added in a low voice that was meant only for his son, "will follow in due time. Justice will be done, I swear it."

To be continued…


	31. Don't say we have come now to the end

_A/N: The title for this chapter comes from the song Into the West from the soundtrack of The Return of the King and sung beautifully by Annie Lennox. The first time I heard this I was listening to my new CD while wrapping Christmas presents; I almost cried because the song was so fitting for Tolkien's tale and Peter Jackson's movie – bittersweet and haunting. Here is the relevant verse: _

_Hope fades_

_Into the world of night,_

_Through shadows falling,_

_Out of memory and time._

_Don't say_

_We have come now to the end;_

_White shores are calling,_

_You and I will meet again._

_And you'll be here in my arms,_

_Just sleeping._

It was an increasingly known fact that Legolas look beautiful in black. It was a color that he almost never wore; wood-elves tended to favor green, browns, and on special occasions silver and he was no exception. This hadn't changed much for him since he'd married Aragorn and moved into a city of Men, except that now there were a few blue, red, and white garments in mixed into his closet too. To the elf the color of his clothing was symbolic; consisting of the palate of the earth and moon when he was just the prince of the Woodland Realm, growing to embrace the more Mannish colors of red and blue when he bound himself to a Man, and adding in white because of its special ties to the city that had become his home.

Legolas never cared to wear garments solely because they enhanced his physical beauty. The complicated and dull debate over which color made which feature stand out more was, in his opinion, best left to the few servants who'd taken it upon themselves to worry about such nonsense. While it was a point of pride to appear put together and grand for the public at large he only cared that Aragorn thought him to be beautiful – and the Man had a way of seeing past physical appearances to behold the true beauty that came from within. As it was, it was only happenstance that anyone knew how striking the prince consort was in black. Legolas only owned one outfit that had black as its primary color: his funeral attire.

With slow, deliberate strokes that were only steady because all of his emotions were overwhelming him too much for any of them to truly take hold Legolas finished brushing his hair into place. After deftly weaving in the warrior braid in the back and placing his circlet upon his brow the elf rose to look at himself in the full-length mirror in the dressing area of his bedchamber. A stranger was looking back at him, or rather a strange version of himself did. Legolas stared, dazed; he wasn't used to seeing himself like this – completely formal and totally miserable.

The problem wasn't with the clothes themselves: they were of Mannish style; but he wore other garments like that often enough for it not to be odd to be wearing them now. The main piece of the outfit – the long black robe – was indeed exquisite, with careful thought put into the smallest details. A subtle pattern that gave the garment texture was embroidered all over it and polished but not shiny black gems served as the buttons. The tailor that had created it had been very proud of his work and rightly so, even though he knew that his prince would never take joy in wearing it.

He could not see under it but he knew what he wore there too; and that more than anything he saw in the mirror really drove home the solemnity of the occasion. Usually when he was forced to get dressed up in robes that were so formal they were long enough to hide his boots Legolas rebelled a little – he was, after all, the person who'd worn travel-stained leggings and worn-out boots under a robe made of the finest elven silks when he got married. That day, however, he wouldn't have been able to force himself to do that if he wanted to and instead opted to wear the black boots that were specially made for the outfit and the black leggings he was supposed to. Black, black, black, black, black; no real color, no light, just black – just like how he was feeling at the moment.

Legolas had been wearing funeral attire far too often as of late (well, technically this was the second time in what anyone would consider lately; but once was too often as far as he was concerned). Only a week before he'd donned the black outfit for Lord Eärnil's funeral. The occasion had been delayed longer than what most of the people of Gondor generally preferred until the prince and princesses were found and settled safely back into the city. Only then could everyone focus on their mourning and they did so wholeheartedly; the number of people present far exceeded the number of chairs available and the line to give condolences to the lord's terribly bereaved wife – widow now – seemed endless.

The elf painfully remembered how he struggled for words when he came face-to-face with Lord Eärnil's wife; and with his daughter and her husband, who were struggling to be strong for the old woman and the good number of weeping children around them. He would have given almost anything to say the correct thing that would have eased their suffering; but what words were there, really? Lord Eärnil had been an old Man who'd lived a good and full life and deserved to pass from the confines of the world peacefully in his bed surrounded by the people he loved and nothing he could think of could make the unfairness of the way he died any less potent.

Eventually he managed to get out, _"The lord was a brave and true Man and I will never forget his courage. I am forever grateful for the sacrifice he made', _but he knew that was the wrong thing to say. Legolas was certain that Lord Eärnil's family cared very little that he appreciated the fact that their husband/father/grandfather had been willing to risk his life and ultimately die for their king and prince's children. As they bore away his body to the family mausoleum they probably had wished that the old Man had been less brave and still alive. Legolas couldn't blame them.

In the end the elf prince had remained silent and still for the most part, holding Eldarion's hand and comforting the boy as best he could. He could feel the guilt radiating off of his son as they listened to testimonials given by many people; and Legolas was torn between wishing that his child had never asked to come and being proud of him for being grown-up enough to publicly pay his respects. He knew that Eldarion felt at least partially responsible for the Man's death; it only served to prove what a brave and mature king he would make that he was able to handle it with so much dignity.

Aragorn had been the last to give a testimonial, sharing a rather amusing and moving tale about the time when the deceased lord had yelled at him for acting like a spoiled brat and ended up thawing the stalled relations between the king and the Advisors' Council. The admiration and fondness he had for Lord Eärnil had been evident and Legolas had observed how those sentiments from the king had given the family a tiny bit of comfort.

'_They needed all the comfort they could get, especially at that point,' _recalled Legolas dismally.

The worst part of any funeral had happened once Aragorn had returned to his place at Legolas' side. Lord Eärnil's relatives had gathered around the Man's casket and carried it into their family's mausoleum and laid it reverently in the stone crypt that was to be the deceased Man's final resting place. Once it was settled in there the lid had slammed into place, never to be lifted and opened again. The sound had been harsh in Legolas' ears, echoing all around and oppressing the air with the heaviness and finality of it all.

And then like that it was over with. The guests had exited the mausoleum, leaving the family behind so that they could say their last goodbyes in private. But then what? How were they supposed to go back to their lives as they were before when there was a gaping hole left behind by the lord's passing? Somehow Lord Eärnil's family had to find a way to carry on as normally when nothing could ever be normal again. It was unfair, but it was also life and simply the way things had to be in the end.

Now…now it was Legolas' turn, his and his family's: the funeral for the baby he'd miscarried was staring in only a few short minutes. Thank Elbereth it was going to be a small, private service, restricted to include only to the members of the extended royal family. The Council had tried to tactfully insist that the citizenry of Gondor should also be allowed to attend or, if that seemed like too many people, at least the nobility but Aragorn had been unmoving in his resolve. The king who could be subtly convinced to go along with the sway of his advisors was gone; so was the prince who always considered the politics of a situation before his own private needs; and once the Council had seen that they had respectfully backed off.

Legolas was grateful for that. If things had gone otherwise he might have been compelled to lose his temper and then control over all of his emotions, causing his fellow advisors to treat him with even more care than they were already displaying. No, he and Aragorn needed to endure this privately; the elf couldn't imagine having to play the part of the prince consort as he stood beside his child's casket, and he could not and would not force Eldarion and Laurelin to be on their most stately behavior when they were already dealing with their grief in a remarkably mature, yet still childlike, manner. Gondor may have lost a member of its monarchy but the royal family had lost so much more than that.

Aragorn found Legolas like that, staring pensively into the mirror while too lost in thought to really see his own reflection, when he returned to their bedchamber already dressed for the day's somber events. The Man had to pause for a moment and make himself swallow his deepest emotions, just like he always did when he saw his husband in his funeral attire. This reaction wasn't brought on only because a tragedy had to occur before Legolas wore those clothes but also because of the first time he'd ever seen his husband dressed in them. It had been not in waking life but in a dream he'd had before they were married.

The Man still felt cold and frightened whenever he thought about it. In the dream he was dead and laid out for his own funeral while the beautiful elf stood mourning over his body. He'd seen Legolas linger beside him long after everyone else had gone until at last he left too, retreating to Mirkwood where, in that same black attire, he succumbed to his grief. Aragorn had never told Legolas or anyone else about that dream, which had made the surprise even more hideous when he'd found that the same outfit his husband had worn in it, down to the smallest detail, was among the official clothing that was made for the new prince consort soon after their wedding.

Yet the events of the dream were still (hopefully) several years off – if they came at all – and Aragorn couldn't let himself be distracted by his fear of them. The present was full of enough grief to make digging for it in a future that might not even happen unnecessarily cruel. What he had to focus on now was getting through the funeral and somehow living life afterwards.

Aragorn cleared his throat and was comforted to see that Legolas wasn't too far gone in his grief to not hear him. "I've spoken to the guards, my love," the Man said, finding his voice. Legolas turned his head heavily to look at him. "They've set up bassinettes in the Common Chamber for Meren, Gilraen, and for Ruby Gamgee too. I told them not to expect the babies to sleep much with all of the older children playing in there too but I think they're hoping that confining all of them to one room will make it easier to keep an eye on them.

"It was good of them to volunteer so readily to mind the twins _and _the hobbit children," said Legolas faintly.

"And Theomir too," Aragorn told him with a little smile. "That boy's going to be a handful too; he wants so badly to be there for Laurelin but Faramir and Eowyn don't think he's ready to attend a – funeral yet. We have excellent guards watching over the people we care about."

"I know," responded Legolas, his heart breaking a bit as he recalled how they forgot about that fact when they needed to remember it most. "I would have allowed them to…to attend if they'd have asked me to."

"They knew that they would be needed elsewhere," said Aragorn gently. "Please sit down for a moment, melanin," he added, taking Legolas by the hand and guiding him to the edge of the bed. "It's just the two of us now. The twins are in the capable hands of the guards, your father and Gimli have taken it upon themselves to make sure that Eldarion and Laurelin are dressed and tended to, and there's nothing that we have to be doing right now. Let's just…I don't know…"

Legolas let out a weighted breath and put his arms around his husband, smiling with painful understanding when he felt Aragorn's face crumple and his hot tears against the flesh of his throat. "I'm right here for you, always," he murmured comfortingly into the Man's ear.

"I know," replied Aragorn tearfully as he pulled away just enough to be able to wipe his eyes. "It's just that…that after I spoke to the guards I had to have a conversation with an errand boy working for the keeper of our family's mausoleum. It seems his master had many questions about our baby's marker: what it should say, what the dates should be. I was wholly unprepared for it…"

"What did you tell him?" asked Legolas.

"Nothing," burst out Aragorn in a self-loathing tone. "I couldn't think; I could barely speak coherently enough to tell him that I'd see his master later. Dear Valar, Legolas…"

Legolas silently cursed the audacity of the mausoleum keeper. While yes, he did abhor the idea of their baby's crypt being left unmarked for any period of time, that Man should have known better than to choose the day of the burial to approach the king about it. He'd had several days to give the matter thought; but then again, so had Aragorn and Legolas. "I'm sorry," the elf said sincerely. "We should have discussed those things earlier."

"All I can see is this barren plaque," lamented Aragorn miserably. "In that cold, dark place our child will lay with nothing more to commemorate her but two words: Princess Telcontar. She'll become a ghost story for future generation, a thrilling little mystery for when her true story is forgotten."

"Then we will put more than two words on her marker," vowed Legolas powerfully. "I don't like the idea of it just saying 'Princess Telcontar' – there are three Princess Telcontars besides her and I cannot bear to have a name that could refer to all of them on a crypt. Besides, she deserves to have a name at least, so that we may remember as a person instead of only a grief in our hearts."

"Do you have anything in mind?" wondered Aragorn.

"I think I'd like to call her Aredhel," replied Legolas softly.

"A lot of grief came to a woman who once bore that name," Aragorn reminded him gently.

The elf looked him in the eye, silently showing him the depths of his pain. "I know that grief comes with that name," he concurred. "Yet now it's her family that feels it. Perhaps if we take all of it upon ourselves there will be none left for her; that way wherever she is all she will know is joy."

"I hadn't thought about it like that," admitted Aragorn. He actually smiled a little, though it was full of mourning. "That's lovely, Legolas, and it fits perfectly. Princess Aredhel Telcontar – I will gladly bear whatever I have to if it means that she can exist free of pain."

"See: there's three words right there," said Legolas encouragingly, resting his chin on Aragorn's shoulder. The Man nuzzled one side of his face. "The dates will come next; she does have them, my love. We know what day she was conceived and what day she…died. Let those mark the beginning and end of her life."

"I can agree to that," said Aragorn. Legolas reached up and touched his bearded cheek. "Well, you have provided the name and dates; the epithet has been left for me." He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "I think it should be: _She was a gift from the Valar_. I can't claim to fully understand what they meant when they gifted her to us but we love her and all love is a gift, even when it comes to grief in the end."

"Is it any wonder that I fell in love with your poetic abilities before I fell in love with you?" asked Legolas. A strange feeling welled up inside of him: he could barely see for all the tears in his eyes and yet at the same time he felt better than he had in the past several days. He sighed and embraced the Man. "We will carry her in our hearts and be glad for it. As long as I have you and our children kept safe in mine I will be able to carry on."

The vision of Legolas turning gray and cold as he gave up his life in that abandoned meadow in Mirkwood came unbidden to Aragorn's mind once again. "And we do not know what lies beyond this world," continued the elf, unaware of the nature of his husband's turmoil. "I have faith that we will see her again."

Suddenly the sorrowful image of the dead elf was replaced with something almost entirely different; Aragorn could now see white shores and a wide green country – as Valinor was described, only more – beyond the confines of the world. There stood himself and Legolas – strong, ageless, and free of grief – in a beautiful field, smiles of pure joy coming to their faces as a little girl who looked very much like him while possessing the prince's elven poise ran to them with her arms open and inviting. "That's very promising," said Aragorn.

A soft, respectful knock sounded on the door. Legolas and Aragorn reluctantly withdrew their arms, although their hands sought each other out and clasped. Rising together and righting themselves the couple prepared for what was to come. "You may enter," called Legolas.

It was Thranduil on the other side of the door. The very fact that he, for one of the only times in his life, had knocked on his son's bedchamber door instead of just barging in was a sobering reminder of how no one quite knew how to carry on properly on the day of a child's funeral. "Ada," said Legolas, going up to him at once.

"My Little Greenleaf," breathed Thranduil tearfully, pulling him into a fierce embrace and fisting the back of his robe. While Legolas was but an elfling all that he needed was to be in his ada's arms and whatever had been troubling him would fall away. The elven king wished with all he was that the same thing would work now. He would have done anything, even taken on his son's grief himself, if it meant that he could spare Legolas from so much pain.

"Thranduil," greeted Aragorn as he came up tentatively from behind Legolas.

"Oh, Aragorn," said Thranduil understandingly as he hugged his son-in-law in his turn. It was only fate that he still dwelt in Middle-earth while Elrond did not; and were their places switched he'd hope – he'd _know_ – that the elf lord would not let Legolas go through such an ordeal without the comfort of a father's love. While he knew it was a pale substitute for the bond between a parent and his child Thranduil had come to love the Man who'd married his son years ago and hopefully Aragorn could make do with that.

In fact Aragorn was more than just making do; if he couldn't have his father there his father-in-law was a worthy substitute in his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered before he stood up straight again. "Where is everyone else?"

"Outside in the corridor," answered Thranduil, nodding toward the open door. "Everything and everyone is ready to begin. We just need you two."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Outside the sun was shining brilliantly in a remarkably blue and cloudless sky. In the waning months of summer the horrible humidity had finally broke and the day was warm without being sticky, accompanied with a pleasantly cool breeze. It was the sort of day that practically required children to play outside until sunset and for adults to forsake their responsibilities for a time to join them. It was not a day made for mourning; and yet throughout all of Minas Tirith that's exactly what people were doing. They respected the reasons why they were not permitted to attend the funeral for their unborn princess but that did not keep the unseen cloud of bereavement from lingering all over the city.

Nowhere was the contrast between the beauty of the day and the heavy grief in the air more evident than on the small green patch of land right outside the mausoleum for the kings and their families. Gathered there were Merry and Estella; Pippin and Diamond; and Sam, Rosie, and Elanor (who had insisted that she was old enough to be there for her extended family). The young hobbit lass had her arm linked with that of Findowyn, who was standing next to the cluster of hobbits with Faramir and Eowyn. On the other end of group were Elladan, struggling to maintain his composure, Gimli with his head bowed, and Thranduil, whose tall brave countenance was betrayed by the look of sheer devastation in his eyes. Between Thranduil and the hobbits were Legolas, Aragorn, Eldarion, and Laurelin, all of whose eyes were riveted on the sight before them: the small casket set upon a stone platform.

Next to the casket stood Elrohir, who was feeling very helpless at the moment. During the planning stages of the funeral for the child he'd just found out was named Aredhel it had become clear that Aragorn and Legolas should not be asked to shoulder the responsibility of presiding over the service. The elf lord had considered himself fortunate when he'd gotten the task of conducting the funeral outside of the mausoleum while his twin and Faramir had ended up taking care of the part that would happen within; but now as the family looked to him to say the right words he found that none he could think of came close to being sufficient. Maybe there were no right words, for he could not imagine even his eloquent and wise father, Elrond, finding any.

"What can I say here today?" asked Elrohir rhetorically. He willed himself to look out into the pained faces of the crowd before him and had to marvel. It was a wonder how one little life could move those who were the greatest of all of the races so deeply. Well, perhaps _marvel_ was the wrong term; that implied that he couldn't make sense of it when in fact he understood that feeling all to well. "What can any of us say here today that would help us begin to make sense of this tragedy?"

With a trembling hand Elrohir fingered the delicate design carved into the top of the casket and blinked rapidly. He was not as quick to cry as his more emotional twin brother but in this he could practically feel his stony and calm exterior crumbling. "People enter our lives and they also have to leave them," he continued. "This does not change no matter how much we love them and will miss them when they go, though it does make the parting pain us beyond all measure. Yet it is not the amount of time between the coming and the going that is important in the end, but the impact that they had – and will always have – on our lives. Aredhel will never truly be gone as long as we do not forget her, and our physical separation from her, I believe, is naught but temporary. There is more than just memory beyond this world and whether we have to wait until we've left it or until the ending of the world we will see her again. Sleep well, my dear niece, until our next meeting."

Bowing his head Elrohir stepped away, letting his hand linger on the casket until he'd walked to far away from it to reach. Before taking his place next to Elladan he stopped briefly to embrace Aragorn, Legolas, and their two eldest children. The grief had temporarily aged Aragorn decades and it was frightening to for the elf lord to see his younger brother looking so old. The depths of pain in Legolas' eyes were unfathomable and it was all that Elrohir could do to look at him straight on for even a second without weeping. However, the royal couple was doing a remarkable job of maintaining their composure; inside they were hunched over with grief but outwardly they were strong, for Eldarion and Laurelin's sakes if nothing else.

The children were a marvel as well. Little Laurelin was the only one of her immediate family who was crying openly, wearing the only pretty dress that she was loath to put on; but she did so quietly as she tried to let her parents deal with their grief without having to worry about hers. She clung to Legolas' hand and he held on tight. As for Eldarion, his jaw quaked and his eyelashes were wet but he stood as tall and strong as his fathers. Elrohir couldn't help looking at him and being reminded of a sapling of the line of the White Tree of Gondor that had become a young adult tree before anyone realized it. Both were a credit to Legolas and Aragorn, and together the four were a family that was meant to endure no matter what storms they were forced to weather.

Legolas waited until his brother-in-law had settled into place beside Elladan before he whispered a few soothing words to Laurelin and gently placed her hand in Eldarion's. Then, with steps that should have been too heavy to belong to an elf, he took Elrohir's former spot beside the casket. He'd planned to say something profound but found that he couldn't speak when he laid his hand upon it. Not even the knowledge that inside the dreadful box was only the garments he'd been wearing when he miscarried could help him distance himself from the pain even slightly.

"My," he began at last before he had to stop. Legolas _needed _to say something – he owed Aredhel that much at least and could not let her go without a proper goodbye – but his strength was failing him.

He cast a vulnerable gaze upon Eldarion and Laurelin before it settled on Aragorn. The Man had a supportive gleam in his eyes, willing his husband to recall something they'd agreed upon a long time ago. _'I don't have to be strong for myself,' _Legolas remembered. _'I will be strong for him and he will be strong for me.'_

Upon this realization it felt to Legolas as if Aragorn was transferring all of the strength the Man had to him and the elf knew that he could speak, if only to do the same. "Our children are made of light," he finally stated. "Eldarion is the light of surprise and first steps, the miracle whose spirit shines so brightly that even at his birth he was able to find me when I was lost between life and death to bring me back home. Laurelin is the light of experience and change; she lit the way to show me and Aragorn that we didn't have to be in constant fear that something terrible would happen as long as we had faith in ourselves, our children, and others. Meren and Gilraen are the lights of joy and strength, for now we have taken the lessons of the first two and have confidence in our ability to guide them in their journey of life; and we can now relax and enjoy doing so. And Aredhel…"

He paused and bowed his head until it was resting on the casket, feeling everyone's eyes boring into him until he raised it up once more. "Aredhel is the light out of dark places," he went on. "Aragorn and I – all of us, really – had lost ourselves as of late; to routine, to aging, to fear, to grief, and to more than I can mention now. It was Aredhel who helped us confront what we did not see, and did not want to see, about ourselves and led us back to the people that we should have been all along – and to the people that we love. I only wish that such a heavy burden hadn't been laid upon such a fragile light."

His voice broke but he refused to let that stop him. "My darling daughter," said Legolas in a labored tone as he turned away from the crowd to the casket. "Everyone here will carry the time you spent in this world with them to their dying days. I'm sorry – I'm sorry that it had to be you to guide me instead of the other way around, as it should have been. I love you."

Aragorn sucked in a deep breath when he saw a violent shudder run through his husband's bent body. He gave Eldarion's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and touched Laurelin's tear-streaked cheeks as both of them silently urged him to go before he hastened to Legolas' side. The elf didn't hesitate to embrace him; and they held each other for several moments before letting go just enough for Aragorn to rest his hand on top of the casket. "How we should measure the length of someone's stay in Middle-earth is a difficult thing to determine," he said, his voice shaking more than he would have liked it to.

Legolas' hand found its way to his shoulder and the Man felt bolstered by his love. "Five hundred years ago is ancient history to mortal Men and but a blink of an eye for an elf. The firstborn consider the waking of the elves to be a long time ago in their history and yet to the Valar it must seem to be just yesterday. But time in the Undying Lands is said to mean very little and I know in my heart that the same is true in what lies beyond Middle-earth. Perhaps where Aredhel now dwells it is only one breath that she will have to wait until she sees her family again. Wait for us, precious, precious child; and in the way you count time we will see you soon."

A hush fell over the family for a moment before Thranduil, mourning in the way of his kind, began to sing. The sad song was in Sindarin; what it said exactly about half the people present there did not know and yet soon they all chimed in as best they could. Legolas and Aragorn knew that it told the story of a child who was lost before her time, and together they whispered it as they lifted the casket and bore it into the mausoleum, leading the rest in the funeral procession. The others had all offered to do this heart-wrenching task but as agonizing as it was to do it, it would have been even more unbearable for the couple not to.

Weaving solemnly through the tombs belonging to the ancient kings and their loved ones they did not stop until they reached a smaller, open crypt that was still unadorned. Although both of their lives had been filled with difficult choices and tasks it was one of the hardest things that Legolas and Aragorn would ever have to do, lowering that casket into the crypt and then letting it go and stepping back. The small box and the clothing within were the only physical links they had to Aredhel and soon they would never look upon either again.

At this point Faramir and Elladan came forward. As the steward positioned himself by the crypt's heavy stone lid the bereaved uncle rested a flower plucked from the White Tree onto the casket. "Hiro hyn hidh ab 'wannath – may she find peace after death," Elladan translated for those who did not understand his words. He muffled his sorrowful cry and moved back. "And may that peace be everlasting."

"The blessings of love and fealty shall accompany her to wherever she may be released," added Faramir, swallowing hard as his eyes inadvertently drifted to his beloved wife and children. He honestly didn't know how Aragorn and Legolas were surviving this – if he ever lost one of his children he was certain that he himself would end up in a crypt soon after. In that moment he had a new understanding of his own father and the madness he had succumbed to when he'd believed that he'd lost his youngest son so soon after the death of his eldest. "Safe journeys, Princess Aredhel Telcontar of Gondor; you take a piece of each of us with you."

The crypt fell shut with a cold, shattering echo. Legolas suddenly remembered another funeral he'd attended long ago, after which King Theoden of Rohan stood before the mound of his son Theodred as he asked the elf if he had any words of comfort to say. None had come to the prince back then and words still failed him now. Nothing came to mind except the sentence that had brought King Theoden to his knees that day: _no parent should have to bury their child._

The rest of the family, seeing that Legolas and Aragorn needed some time alone, started filtering out. Thranduil and Gimli gently rounded up their grandchildren, embraced the couple once more, and left; Faramir, Eowyn, and their children went too after saying their goodbyes. The hobbits followed suit, until Elanor stopped abruptly before stepping out of the mausoleum and hurrying back. "Strider, Legolas," she said nervously.

"Yes, Elanor?" asked Legolas kindly.

"I have – I don't know if this is the time – but," she reached into her pocket, pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment, and handed it to Aragorn, who was closest to her. "I had a dream last night about…about Aredhel. I like to draw, you know, and this is what she looked like…"

Aragorn unfolded it reverently and could not hide his surprise when he saw the little girl from his vision earlier that day looking back at him. The light in her eyes was unmistakable and the smile spread across her face would have brought joy to even the most hardened heart. "Thank you," he said in a choked voice. "You don't know how much this means to me – to us."

"It's beautiful," nodded Legolas, mesmerized. He somehow knew in his heart that Eru had bestowed upon them the comfort of knowing what Aredhel would have looked like. "Thank you."

The hobbit lass offered them a small smile and departed, leaving Aragorn and Legolas alone with the picture and the crypt. "She looks so happy," observed Legolas as he gazed at the drawing.

"She is," replied Aragorn simply but certainly.

For the first time since they'd joined their family the pair finally gave in to their tears, weeping for their loss, their despair, for the strange bittersweet blessings that their unborn daughter had given them, and for the small comfort they'd received now. Aredhel was at peace but it would take a considerable amount of time before the same could be said of her parents.

To be continued…


	32. Reckoning day

It was several weeks after Aredhel's funeral before a date was set before Tanondor's trial, and another two passed by between that final decision and the actual hearing. Of course, the nobility and the citizenry of Gondor were abuzz with speculation as to why there had been such a delay. The king usually insisted on hearing cases as soon as possible; for ethical reasons (such as not wanting someone who may be innocent languishing in the dungeons for longer than they had to), practical (mostly concerning Gondor's system for keeping track of prisoners and their related information; for as good as it was it was far from perfect and the longer a person was down there the more likely it was that their information would be misplaced and they would be overlooked), and personal (he could only take so much gossip and preferred to satisfy his people's curiosity before it drove him completely insane).

Those reasons applied to even the most heinous of Gondor's offenders but apparently King Elessar didn't care about any of them when it came to his children's kidnapper. Different rumors ran wild in every street and home. Some empathetic souls believed that King Elessar had waited so long because he wanted to give his family a reprieve from all of the hardships and grief they'd been forced to endure as of late. Other more cynical people asserted that he wanted Tanondor to stew in his own worry and regret until the former lord had driven himself almost mad. Another popular theory was the delay was simply due to the fact that the king didn't care if the prisoner rotted away in a dark, dank, filthy cell and in fact found that fate preferable to ending his emotional suffering quickly. But no matter what story people passed around and believed there was no one in the city and beyond who found fault in King Elessar's decision to wait as long as he did.

The truth of the matter was that while all of the above speculation played at least a small part in Aragorn's decision the real reason he'd put off Tanondor's trial was for much the same reason he'd (on a smaller scale) delayed Lady Nienor's thirteen years earlier: he was waiting until he was in a place mentally and emotionally where he could preside over it in a fair manner. As much as he personally despised Tanondor with all that he was Aragorn was still a king and judge and he had a responsibility to his people, his family, and himself not to give in to his desire for revenge. Only a tyrant allowed his emotions to completely control his rule; and while he'd recently been a king who'd forgotten he was also a Man he knew he couldn't carry that extreme the other way by being a Man who forgot he was also a king. He'd once had an effective balance between the king and the Man once and he had to hope he could find it again.

Aragorn also had another responsibility, this one to Eldarion. His son was going to be sitting on that throne one day, facing these types of difficult decisions. He would be doing Eldarion (and the future generations of Gondor) no favors if he taught the boy it was all right to wreak vengeance on whoever he wanted to just because he could. A king could be powerful without losing control of a situation, and the trial would (unfortunately) be a good time to demonstrate that to the boy.

That was going to be a difficult lesson for Aragorn to demonstrate, however, for the same reason why the trial was also significantly different from that of Lady Nienor: this time Legolas was not advocating for the accused. Aragorn had never and would never totally understand why his husband had felt sorry for the woman who'd tried to kill him and their unborn son but it had helped him nonetheless; knowing that the elf had forgiven her had essentially given him permission to let go of his own hostility enough to act fair and pass down a just sentence. There was no forgiveness now. Perhaps the fact that in the end the lady's crimes hadn't resulted in any deaths helped Legolas see past what she did to understand her motivation but now Tanondor had crossed a line that not even the prince could forgive when the royal couple had lost Aredhel because of the insane Man's machinations.

The hearing couldn't be put off forever, though, and sooner than either Man or elf would have preferred the day of the trial was upon them. On the morning of, less than an hour before it was scheduled to begin, Aragorn and Legolas were bustling around the antechamber in their quarters, making sure Meren and Gilraen were ready for their baby-sitters and generally avoiding talking about where they were going to next. Closing the doors to the cabinet where he'd just neatly stacked the diapers for easy access, the Man looked over his shoulder and had to smirk as he watched his husband burp one of their daughters. "A lot of people would be appalled if they knew you did that while wearing your finest clothing," he noted, keeping his tone deliberately light.

"A lot of people would also be appalled if they knew everything we've done on your throne," retorted Legolas with the same forced carelessness. "But that's none of their business and neither is this."

A satisfactory burp came out of the infant. "Good girl," the elf murmured, kissing her little head. He placed the baby back in her crib and tossed aside the close he'd had on his shoulder. "There; now no one will be able to figure out anything scandalous happened. I am now presentable."

"You're beautiful," Aragorn corrected him. No one would argue with that assessment – the elf prince was clad in the same sort of Mannish clothing he usually wore when he attended the official court, with these particular garments a mixture of regal blue and brilliant red and made of the finest materials. Yet no matter how stunning he was physically that's not what Aragorn was looking at and they both knew it.

"Thank you," said Legolas.

Aragorn watched as the elf arranged a light blanket around their daughter. "Do you think she'll fall asleep before we leave?" he wondered aloud.

"Yes," replied Legolas before he let out a deep sigh. "Do you think before we leave we should start talking about what we're avoiding talking about?"

"There's not much to talk about – we both know I wish Eldarion wasn't attending the trial," asserted Aragorn, not for the first time. "I believe he's too young to have to go through being present at the trial of the Man who tried to maim him, let alone participating in it."

"I'm not too happy about it either but he insisted on coming and neither of us could come up wit a real reason to deny him that request," replied Legolas patiently but tiredly. Eldarion's announcement about his intentions to attend Tanondor's hearing had resulted in a noisy 'discussion' between his parents. Aragorn had been surprised and none too pleased when the normally overprotective Legolas had sided with their son. He'd been even less happy when he couldn't figure out one sufficient excuse about why the boy couldn't go.

While Legolas was more than sympathetic with his husband's turmoil he didn't agree with him and held firm to his opposing position. "I think it would do more harm than good to make him stay away," he insisted, looking encouragingly into Aragorn's eyes. "It would only serve to forever make Tanondor that menacing monster in his mind. Seeing that Man sentenced – and getting the chance to confront him in a safe surrounding – will give him a sense of control over what happened and a chance for some closure."

The Man could see the wisdom in that – in fact he'd always known it, which was why he'd allowed Legolas and Eldarion to veto his objections so easily at all. He just wished that it was only a few lingering doubts that was making him so melancholy about the whole situation. "He shouldn't have to," he reiterated softly. "We're his parents – it's our job to take care of the monsters for him."

"He's almost thirteen," Legolas pointed out. "And he's already proven that he's capable and ready to take on more adult responsibilities. It's difficult for me too, melanin, but we'd be doing a disservice to Eldarion if we didn't help him learn how to handle facing his fears."

"But he's not an adult!" protested the Man. He knew his tone was bordering on whining but at the moment he was feeling too petulant to care. "I don't care what happened after Tanondor took him – just because he was able to handle himself in a crisis doesn't mean…I don't know…"

"Aragorn," said Legolas as kindly as he could while setting aside his exasperation. "Is this really all about Eldarion or are your objections also because of how you're feeling?"

Aragorn scrunched up his face, silently denying that to his husband and himself but both of them knew he was lying. After looking Legolas in the eye almost defiantly for a couple of seconds the king found he had to look down. "Maybe," he admitted, walking over to the rocking chairs and sinking down in one. "It's just – it seems like only one minute ago he was our little boy. He tormented his sister, played with his wooden sword, did everything he could to get out of his etiquette lesson with the Advisors' Council, and depended on us to protect him. Is this a punishment, Legolas? Since we failed to protect him once the Valar now see fit to take away that privilege from us?"

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," marveled Legolas. He couldn't help laughing a little as he knelt down in front of his husband and comfortingly squeezed his hands. "_I'm_ the one who overreacted to him moving to his nursery as a baby and _you're_ the one who gave him that hunting knife and conspired with him not to tell him about it. _I'm _the one who still uses his baby nickname, for Elbereth's sake! How is it that _I'm_ the one who has to talk _you_ through your turmoil as he matures even more?"

"This isn't funny, Legolas," insisted Aragorn with a miserable groan. "When we got to the farm we found our son, but not our little boy. That Eldarion was taken from us before the proper time and we never got to bid him a proper farewell."

"No parent does," Legolas told him wisely. "No matter how prepared they think they are every parent goes through the shock of waking up one morning to find that their child is now a young adult."

"But it happened so abruptly," murmured Aragorn.

Legolas moved a little closer and held Aragorn's face with both hands. "I'm sure our fathers felt the same way," he said gently. "I mean, one minute I was sitting on my father's lap listening to his lesson about the Last Alliance and the next I had to be mature enough to tolerate a stream of troubadours who refused to let me be. You were just a typical little boy who annoyed his older brothers and then in the blink of an eye you were experiencing the very grown-up feeling of love. It's a parent's curse: what we put Ada and Lord Elrond through is what we now must endure with our own son."

"I know," sighed Aragorn resignedly. A nostalgic light came to his eyes. "I am going to miss him, though."

"He's not moving to a distant land," said Legolas with a hint of playful admonishment in his tone. "And the little boy isn't completely gone either. If it makes you feel any better I'll have you know Eldarion played with young Frodo in the garden just yesterday. This only means he has to incorporate his maturing nature into who he already is."

Aragorn covered the hands cupping his face with his own. "So you're telling me our little boy will still be around for a little while longer?" he asked, wry but sincerely hopeful.

"I think there's no danger of that part of him ever completely disappearing," replied Legolas with a mischievous smirk. "He is your son, after all; and judging by the way you behave around Elladan and Elrohir I feel reasonably confident in saying that his immature side will always exist."

"You're very cruel to me, melanin," said Aragorn, his voice softening into almost a purr. "I'm suffering a personal crisis and all you can do is make jokes at my expense. I thought you loved me."

"I do love you, Aragorn," declared Legolas softly and with perfect seriousness.

As if something invisible was pulling them toward each other Legolas and Aragorn leaned in at the same time, coming closer to one another until their lips finally met. The kiss started out chaste enough but soon their mouths yielded open and their tongues dueled with a good amount of passion. Legolas' hands found their way to the back of the Man's head and gently but firmly held him in place while Aragorn's slid down his husband's arms and hooked underneath his shoulders, enabling him to pull the elf closer.

"Wow," whispered Aragorn when their mouths finally parted. "We haven't done anything like _that _in a long time."

"Or anything else, for that matter," said Legolas, feeling a little awkward. The last time they'd been intimate was the day Aredhel had been conceived. Tanondor's twisted gift to Laurelin had come almost immediately after and that night the little girl had moved into her fathers' bedchamber, giving them no privacy. Eldarion had followed suite, crowding the space even more. Then came the kidnapping, miscarriage, funerals, and preparing for the trial. While the children were finally back in their bedchambers the recent tragedies and near-tragedies had taken their toll on the royal couple's romantic life. As much as Legolas missed that intimacy he couldn't help feeling guilty about wanting it so soon after Aredhel's death. "It's been…"

"I know," Aragorn told him understandingly. "And sometimes it does feel…wrong to want that closeness and happiness after so much grief, but" –

"She wouldn't want us to be in deep mourning for her for the rest of our days," completed Legolas. "It wouldn't be a fitting tribute to Aredhel to stop living our lives. Let's just – let's just get through today, my love, and start to work this out tonight. Right now, alas, we have a trial to attend.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Usually the court was abuzz with whispers pertaining to rumors about cases being heard that day, the latest gossip about whose son was marrying whose daughter and how that was so scandalous, the garments that others were wearing and whether or not they made their owners look like paupers or braggarts, and other topics that served to keep the nobility amused when the actual business going on didn't have anything to do with them. On that day, however, no one so much as made a peep as they cleared a path for Aragorn and Legolas, bowing to their monarchs as the couple walked together to their thrones in a stately manner. The prince could swear he heard many of their hearts beating fast, and Thranduil, Elladan, and Elrohir – standing close to the base of the thrones with the rest of the extended family, minus the children – knew that's exactly what they were hearing.

The royal couple was determined not to give anyone anything to talk about, save how remarkably well they handled themselves on that difficult day. There would be no basis for accusations and rumors of decisions based on revenge, nor any questions about how much far leniency would and would not be extended for certain crimes. The Man and elf exchanged a look as they sat down before turning their attention to the court. "You may rise," Aragorn announced to the people, who obeyed.

'_I can do this,' _he mentally prepared himself. _'I just have to follow the procedures established for trials. That should be easy, right? I _did _create any of them.' _Bracing himself, he gestured in a regal manner to the guard that was standing watch over the door where the fallen lord awaited on the other side. "Guard," he said, pleased when he found he sounded much calmer than he felt, "we are ready to proceed. Is the prisoner ready to answer to the throne and the court about the charges against him?"

"Yes, King Elessar," replied the guard as he fought down a malicious grin. That would have been his answer if Tanondor was curled up in the fetal position, crying. The insane Man hadn't given his victims any time to prepare for his attacks and it was only right to want to return the favor. Sadly (from the guard's perspective) the prison _was _prepared.

Bowing deeply and rising once more, the guard threw open the door to reveal Tanondor. The former lord's fall from grace was certainly evident in his undignified appearance. Gone were the expensive and grand garments of a nobleman; those had been taken away from him almost immediately and replaced with the same type of coarse, dull tunics that all prisoners wore. His boots had been replaced in a similar manner with light shoes that kept his feet warm enough but would offer him no help if he tried to kick someone or attempted to make an escape. Not that any such attempt would be successful – his hands were securely bound, not cruelly tight but not gently done either, and no less than six guards flanked him as he walked to the throne.

Yet despite all of this humiliation Tanondor still held his head high. He was a proud creature, after all, and while he had a _few_ regrets concerning some unwanted and unintended outcomes of his schemes that was more because it caused him so much trouble than because he that it was unjustified. All of his scheming had been for a very good reason and he would have done it all again if he had any hope they would work out in his second attempt.

Aragorn noticed how Legolas' hands gripped the arms of his throne so tightly his knuckles turned white as Tanondor looked him in the eyes and smiled. The impulsive part of the Man wanted to leap from his seat and pummel the accused for even daring to look at his husband with that self-righteous smirk on his face, but instead took some comfort in knowing that his restraint would end up punishing the former lord even more in the end. "_Tanondor_," he said in a deliberate tone, emphasizing how he was no longer using the title of 'lord' for that Man. "A Man in your position has little to smile about."

"I was just pleased to see how very well your beloved husband has recovered from all of the traumatic events in his life as of late," said Tanondor with ease, for he no longer feared the king's reaction. He already knew his fate and saw no reason to be on his best behavior anymore. "One would think having a miscarriage meant nothing to him at all."

"One would be wrong," said Legolas in an even, controlled tone that could freeze blood in someone's veins.

"Now is not the time for your observations, Tanondor," Aragorn told him tightly. "You stand before the thrones of the king and prince consort of Gondor accused of numerous heinous crimes. Let it be known that Tanondor, former lord of Gondor, has been charged with torturing his wife, tormenting the servants of his household, trespassing in the royal quarters of the citadel of Gondor, terrorizing the royal family of Gondor, maliciously terrorizing Princess Laurelin Telcontar, theft, attacking Prince Eldarion Telcontar on two separate occasions, kidnapping four children who are also members of the royal family of Gondor, cruelly murdering Lord Eärnil, nobleman and advisor of the king of Gondor, and directly causing the death of Princess Aredhel Telcontar. How do you respond?"

"Is there any response that would move you to spare my life?" asked Tanondor pointedly. He looked from the cold outrage in Legolas' expression to the utter lack of pity in Aragorn's and sighed. "I didn't think there would be."

"Then you wish to give no answer?" asked Aragorn in a clipped tone.

Tanondor squared his shoulders and jutted his chin defiantly. "I did not say that," he replied haughtily. "I will not die without telling my side of the story. I just haven't figured out on which charge to begin – unless my king expects me to answer to all of them at once, of course."

"Answer them however you want," Aragorn ordered him in a chilly voice. He would not give the former lord the pleasure of knowing just how much he got to him. "I only expect you not to waste our time. You have the right to make your case but not to turn the court into your own personal stage. If you need any guidance, however, I will suggest starting at the beginning with the first of the charges."

"Very well then," said Tanondor. "My wife and servants are my own business. They belong to me to use however I want whenever I want. That right is enjoyed by everyone here including you, King Elessar; for my good prince consort ended up pregnant so soon after giving birth to twins even though I overheard him specifically telling you that he did not wish to be in such a condition." His eyes shifted to Legolas and felt a thrill at knowing how the elf and Man would wonder about at what point during his eavesdropping and spying he'd heard that. "I do not question how others exercise that right and I should not have to answer to you or anyone else about what I do with what belongs to me."

"You cut off your wife's finger," stated Legolas, his disgust profound. "She was your life partner and a person, not a possession that supplied you with whatever you felt you needed; and while you may be master of your household it is not within your rights or anyone else's to _own_ another person, be they spouse or servants. The laws of Gondor protect _all _from inhumane treatment regardless of social standing. You were on the Advisors' Council, Tanondor – surely _you _know the law."

The former lord simply snarled his upper lip in disdain. "I know," he declared smugly, "but that doesn't mean I agree with it."

"It is not for you to decide which laws are worth following," said Aragorn darkly. "Even I am not permitted to do that. But that does not begin to answer all of the charges made against you; even if I was a thoughtless and cruel tyrant who believed that a person has the right to treat the members of his household in whatever way he chooses most of your crimes were against people outside of it."

"Are you referring to how I supposedly terrorized you and your family?" smirked Tanondor. "Now really, since when is helping people with new infants and giving them flowers a crime? It is well known that Prince Legolas likes things that grow; surely you wouldn't punish someone for giving you a flower that displeases you, my good prince?"

Even a fool would know what Tanondor was trying to do and Legolas was no fool: he was attempting to bate him, provoke Aragorn by speaking about and to him directly, or both – anything that would make one of them respond in a less-than-controlled manner and perhaps cast a more favorable light on him. The prince understood his game and he refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting like he wanted him to. "Flowers don't displease me," said the elf. "Only the manner in which they are presented will do that, especially when someone uses a beautiful plant to threaten the people I love. You trespassed into Princess Laurelin's bedchamber to leave her flowers – along with a necklace and the aforementioned finger. Was that not a threat, Tanondor?"

"I didn't know how else to get your attention," replied Tanondor smoothly.

"You mean you didn't know how else to get the members of the royal family right where you wanted them," corrected Aragorn frostily. "You had a similar reason for trespassing into Prince Eldarion's bedchamber and attacking him for the first time with a hunting knife you stole from him. Do you deny this?"

"He is an impertinent boy," spat out Tanondor, his disgust coming through his smooth façade for the first time. Eldarion had turned out to be the downfall of his plans and his biggest regret of all was not killing him in that bedchamber before the young prince could wreak his havoc. "Perhaps if you hadn't forgotten how he almost killed your husband at birth you might have seen fit to give him more…effective punishments that would actually teach him a lesson."

Aragorn's nostrils flared slightly, but not quite for the reason that Tanondor thought why. "An infant cannot control the circumstances of his birth," he defended his son. "Only when they are out of the womb and aware of the difference between right and wrong should they be held accountable for almost – or actually – killing someone."

"You jump ahead in my accusations, King Elessar," admonished Tanondor brazenly. "First I must answer to the so-called kidnapping, to which I say I am innocent. I admit I took the prince and princesses but it was not what anyone would call kidnapping. I was not asking for a ransom or making them leave their privileged lives for something that would debase them. They were safe in my care; I would not have harmed them in the least."

That couldn't have happened any better if the royal couple had planned it. "King Elessar," spoke up Legolas, happy to take advantage of the opening Tanondor had presented them. "There is a witness waiting to be allowed before in the court who has much to say on this particular matter. Will you permit him to enter?" With a brief nod from Aragorn the elf gave Tanondor a look that was almost calculating in its serenity and called out: "Make way for Prince Eldarion Telcontar of Gondor!"

Every head in that throne room whipped around to watch as the main doors opened to reveal Eldarion. Instantly whispers flew around about his proudly majestic stance; the mature air that surrounded him as he walked through the crowd; and the indifferent way he ignored the way Tanondor peevishly glared at him as he passed by him on his way to his parents' side. This was not the boy who squirmed uncomfortably in his formal garments and made childish faces and gestures at people who made him angry. The young prince had grown-up seemingly overnight and was handling the stressful situation in a most admirable way. In his every move and expression the people could see the good man he was becoming and the great king he would be.

"Let it be known that the king recognizes the witness, Prince Eldarion," announced Aragorn formally. _'Barely,' _he added to himself wistfully as he took a second to regard the young man who used to be his little boy. "Prince Eldarion, Tanondor testifies that you and your sisters were safe in his care and that he would not have harmed you. Do you have any response to that?"

"Only that it is an outright and outrageous lie," replied Eldarion. He was glad he had to make his voice strong enough to project it so everyone there could hear him; otherwise he wouldn't have been able to keep it from shaking. There was something terrifying about being so close to his abductor again even though he knew the Man couldn't harm him, but he couldn't let that stop him from protecting his sisters by directly contradicting Tanondor's falsehoods. "He told me and my sister Princess Laurelin that he was going to cut the tips of our ears off – to make us not be half-elves anymore, he claimed. When I told him I wouldn't allow that to happen he attacked me for the second time – _with _the same hunting knife, I might add – and threatened not only to not give me anything to ease my pain once he succeeded but also to make me watch as he mutilated my younger sisters in the same manner."

Aragorn and Legolas had known about the details of Tanondor's second attack, but since none of them could bear repeating them until now the rest of the family had not. Sam, Merry, and Pippin's body language turned threatening; Faramir sucked in a breath and held a furious Eowyn's hand as Findowyn gaped at Eldarion; Elladan and Elrohir were filled with white-hot wrath; and Gimli, instinctively clutching his axe, and Thranduil, automatically reaching for his knife, managed somehow to restrain each other. "He didn't get any of our ears, I'm happy to say," continued Eldarion grimly. "But he got very close to mine."

A gasp rose from the crowd as Eldarion tilted his head to reveal the scar left behind by the knife blow Tanondor had gotten in during their struggle. It wasn't unseemly or even all that noticeable unless it was pointed out but it was still a physical reminder of what the insane Man had tried to do and Eldarion would have it for the rest of his life. "You are proven a liar, Tanondor," said Aragorn, a slight furious tremble making its way into his voice as he was forced to face once again how close his son had come to losing the tips of his ears and possibly his life. "Even you cannot claim that you could leave such a mark without harming him."

"He deserved it," declared Tanondor bluntly and maliciously. He sneered at the boy but was not given the pleasure of seeing him react. "Let that mark always remind you of me."

"Your true nature is finally emerging for all to see," noted Legolas in a slightly mocking tone as he inwardly seethed. "Perhaps now you can answer to the most heinous of all your crimes with nothing but the utmost truthfulness. What say you to Lord Eärnil and Princess Aredhel's deaths?"

Tanondor hadn't expected the king and prince to allow their son to be there, let alone speak against him, and he hadn't had enough time to regain his control before having to face the most difficult of the charges to justify. "I never meant for anyone to die," he protested, his voice finally cracking a bit under the pressure. "One of my biggest regrets is that taking Lord Eärnil's life became necessary. I mourn him as much and more than anyone else – he was a good friend for many years" –

"If that is how you treat your friends," Legolas couldn't help interjecting, "I pity the poor souls you count among your enemies. I doubt his family will have much use for your condolences and mourning."

"I am a civilized Man," insisted Tanondor, growing hotter and angrier by the moment. "I did not relish the feeling of his blood on my hands! I'd hoped that he wouldn't make killing him necessary but he was trying to hinder me from carrying out my plan. Even then I apologized to him first."

"I'm sure he was gratified by that, if that's even the truth," remarked Aragorn with dry sarcasm. "It's a shame that Princess Aredhel didn't receive the same courtesy."

"Perhaps she would have had no need for it if Prince Legolas hadn't forgotten that it is the job of other people to charge to the prince and princesses' rescue!" retorted the former lord as the last of his resolve to shame and humiliate the royal couple through his calm demeanor shattered. "Both of you should have remembered that _certain _activities can result in making a baby and taken the necessary precautions to care for a baby who couldn't care for herself. Perhaps you should have taken more time between pregnancies in the first place!"

"Watch your tongue," warned Aragorn.

"Why?" demanded Tanondor spitefully. "I'm about to lose it anyway. Before that happens, however, let it be known that I did everything I am accused of doing and I do not apologize for any of it! It was all justifiable by another crime that happened in this very room over thirteen years ago by King Elessar and Prince Legolas themselves."

He pointed a condemning finger in their direction. "On that day I stood in this court and watched as you robbed a dear, beautiful, and perfect woman of everything she knew because of the wrongdoings of her husband and daughter," he accused. "I was only restoring to the Lady Almarian what was rightfully hers and finally giving her the justice that had been denied to her for so long."

He didn't know it yet but Tanondor had just destroyed any defense he had left. It was all Aragorn could do not to betray this as he gestured to the same guard who had let Tanondor in at the beginning of the hearing. The guard had to duck his head to hide his smirk as he approached his king and handed him a rolled up piece of parchment. "You claim this was all done on the Lady Almarian's behalf?" asked Aragorn.

"What is that?" demanded Tanondor, desperately eying the message.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Aragorn in a tone that only hinted at how maliciously pleased he was. "You have claimed that from the start, with so much fervor that the prince consort and I felt compelled to send a party of guards from Minas Tirith to Dol Amroth to hear what she had to say about your efforts. She answered all of their questions to their satisfaction and sent this letter to me and my husband."

Aragorn saw Tanondor twitch at being in the same vicinity of something from the lady. "In it she declares she knew nothing about your intentions or actions and expresses her distress and disdain that you would do such things – 'abominable' is the word she used to describe them – on her behalf," said Aragorn as he skimmed the letter. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman, whom convinced even the most suspicious guards and the best judges of character of her innocence; she had the unfortunate gift of attracting less-than-desirable Men. "She also shares a rather enlightening story about finding you going through her belongings before she left Minas Tirith with Lord Cirion. She says she didn't realize until later that her necklace with her husband's family crest was missing but, as she never wanted to have contact with you again, she dropped the matter – that solves the mystery of where the necklace you left for the princess came from. She concludes by saying that she doesn't care what happens to you today as long as she no longer has to worry about you bothering her. What say you now, Tanondor?"

"You filthy liar," spat out Tanondor, lunging forward suddenly. His many guards easily and enthusiastically held him back. "You would do and say anything to condemn me! You think you're so special, don't you, _Strider_? You have your adoring spouse to fulfill your every need and a household full of children while I have none of those! I deserve to have Lady Almarian and she knows it! Do you understand me? _Lady Almarian is mine and nothing you, your husband, or your brat of a son do will change that_!"

"Enough," ordered Aragorn. "You have answered to the charges and everything you've said has only served to prove your guilt. Furthermore, you have now demonstrated that no one is safe from your delusions. I will not have you be a threat to my family or my people anymore. As punishment for your numerous terrible crimes, not the least of which are two murders, and to protect Gondor and Middle-earth from your insanity I hereby sentence you to death by beheading with a sword to be carried out at dawn tomorrow. Take the prisoner back to the dungeons and have those in charge of him find out his last meal requests and final wishes."

Eldarion finally broke down and flung himself into Legolas' arms, burying his face in his ada's neck so that he wouldn't have to look at Tanondor as the guards dragged the condemned Man away. "You did wonderfully," Legolas told him encouragingly. "I'm so very proud of you, ion nin."

"We both are," added Aragorn, leaning over and putting his arm across Eldarion's back.

"I don't want to go tomorrow," whispered Eldarion. "I know I should be grown up enough to go but I don't want to."

One day Eldarion would be king and would have to go to any execution he ordered, like Aragorn would have to at down the next day. One day he would be an adult member of the royal family and have to attend, like Legolas would do when he stood by his husband's side at tomorrow's dawn. But while Eldarion was growing up he was not quite done being the couple's little boy yet. "You don't have to," Aragorn assured him as Legolas held him tighter. "Your part in his life is over now, Eldarion. That Man is now in your past."

To be concluded…

_A/N: Yes, the next chapter will be the last. I'm sorry this story's a little shorter than the first two, but it feels right to end it now._

_A/N: The type of execution Aragorn ordered is actually fairly humane, as far as executions go. A sword takes off the head pretty cleanly with one blow while an axe can take several. This was the type of beheading that one of King Henry VIII's wives requested and received._


	33. The world renews

A couple of weeks later Legolas was once again in the antechamber of his quarters, this time alone save for the slumbering infant twins and content to use his few moments to himself to stare out of the window at the sky. The sun was just starting to go down – earlier than it had been the past few months, a sure sign that summer was failing fast and autumn was upon them – and he was able to make out what the night would look like. The colors of the sunset would give way to bright, twinkling stars that would dance against a backdrop of velvety black. The graying sun would go down and in its place in the sky would sit an almost-full moon shining brilliantly and giving the earth and the buildings beneath it the illusion of a silvery daylight. Legolas sighed contentedly. As much as he loved the day he loved the night more; in it alone he could see what other races called 'magic' and this particular evening would be a perfect example of it.

It was fitting to have such a glorious night sky to occur that evening, for Legolas had come to believe that things happening on that date had an abundance of magic in them naturally. It was thirteen years ago to the day that Legolas had given birth to his miracle child, Eldarion. On that one day the baby who had endured his ada's ignorant carelessness, natural growing pains of his parents' marriage, and two deliberate attacks on his existence had not only been born but also born healthy; Legolas had almost bled to death in the process but recovered wonderfully; and Aragorn and Thranduil had finally managed to find common ground in their strained relationship to build a true bond between them. In light of all of that the elf couldn't be blamed for seeing the magic of the world around him just a little bit more clearly on that night.

It also helped that he didn't have to be in the great feasting hall of the citadel right then, seeing to it that everything was in order before practically all of Gondor as well as quite a few notable guests arrived there to celebrate Eldarion's birthday. He'd had quite enough of that sort of frenzy in the past two weeks. _'It was bound to happen, though,' _he thought with some mirth. _'Aragorn and I vowed – _vowed _– not to let things get so out-of-hand that last minute preparation would be critical. As soon as we did that we all but doomed ourselves to that exact scenario.'_

Legolas was exhausted just thinking about it. It had seemed they would actually have things under control when they managed to get all of the birthday announcements and invitations sent a bit early, and even more promising when the hobbits had shown up well in advance. Then of course came the stalking, the bizarre and disturbing gifts, Eldarion's attack, the kidnapping, Lord Eärnil's murder, losing Aredhel, search, reunion, two funerals, a trial, and finally an execution. All of these, besides being hideously painful experiences, had served to delay the normal aspects of their lives, such as tending to the garden, riding the horses…planning the crown prince's birthday celebration.

Eldarion had known this and, tired and a bit shaken after Tanondor's sentence was carried out, brought up the notion of canceling the celebration altogether. It seemed wrong, he had claimed, to celebrate anything after so many horrible things had happened. Thankfully the assurances of his fathers and the pleas of little Laurelin, who had not forgotten her brother's promises to her, had soothed him enough to agree that calling off something happy would not erase the evils that had befallen them in the recent past. If anything, they all (and the boy himself most of all) _needed_ to celebrate Eldarion's birthday and regain some sense of normalcy.

Now the big night had finally arrived and Legolas could scarcely wait for the party. _'This is going to be a night of new beginnings for all of us,' _he thought resolutely as he stepped away from the window and walked back over to his daughters' bassinettes. _'It's a chance to let go of the past and embrace the possibilities of the future. Won't that be wonderful, Meren, Gilraen? To actually be able to put one foot in front of the other and move forward instead of running in place, as we have been for too long?'_

Everything was ready, at least on his end: he was all dressed and ready to go, and the twins were changed, fed, burped, changed again, and finally asleep and prepared to be put in the care of a nanny for the evening. Now if only that nanny would arrive he could get down to the feasting hall. The elf readjusted Meren's blankets in a nervous, fidgety manner. As much as he _really _didn't want to endure the additional stress of the last-minute preparations he knew he needed to be there to find out what disasters were brewing. The responsibility of the last-minute preparations right then lay in the joint hands of Aragorn, Elladan, and Elrohir, so the possibilities for catastrophes were endless.

Legolas almost jumped out of his skin when a soft, tentative knock came to the door. "Finally," be breathed in relief to his sleeping daughters, all while wondering why the woman was knocking at all. The nannies, not wanting to disturb the babies in case they were slumbering, usually slowly opened the doors until someone inside noticed and quietly bid them enter.

Not wanting to call out a greeting for fear it would rouse Meren and Gilraen the elf prince noiselessly crossed the floor and carefully opened the door. "Good evening," he said, peering out. "They're all" –

But there was no Mannish nanny out there. Legolas was taken aback and slightly unnerved until someone cleared her throat, signaling to him that he was looking in the wrong place. "Estella?" asked Legolas as he turned his gaze downward.

Indeed it was Estella Brandybuck who was standing in the corridor, anxiously biting her lower lip and offering him an awkward smile. "Good evening, Legolas," she greeted him. The elf could tell by her tone how nervous she was, which was ridiculous – they hadn't been able to spend any quality time together upon returning to Minas Tirith after the kidnapping but she should have been over her shyness by now. "I'm sorry to be bothering you right now. Can I come in?"

"Of course – you're always welcome here," Legolas assured her, stepping aside so she had enough room to come through the doorway, restraining his naturally sarcastic nature by not pointing out that she clearly _could _come in since she didn't seem able to handle it yet. She raised an eyebrow at him as she walked by and the prince had to laugh – it appeared she had a sense of humor after all. "All right – _almost _always. There are times when not even my children will be admitted in here."

"As it should be," asserted Estella supportively. While she couldn't truly understand the difficulties of maintaining a romantic relationship with a spouse after having children she better than anyone else in the citadel know how hard it was to regain that emotional intimacy after losing a child and what struggles a couple faced in trying to resume the physical aspects of their relationship. She's recognized in Legolas and Aragorn during the time since that awful Man's hearing all of the signs that they were taking their first steps on that sometimes painful journey and she was determined to give them all the support they could ask of her.

A part of that now was to act as if the idea of the couple making love again was the most natural thing in the world instead of cause for reflection and solemn congratulations and encouragements. "I do hope I'm not intruding now," she continued with a little teasing in her tone.

"Oh no," laughed Legolas. "Aragorn's downstairs, most likely causing as many crises as he is fixing them."

"Really?" asked Estella in surprise. "He always seems to be so responsible."

"He's with his brothers," explained Legolas wryly. "Imagine how Merry, Pippin, and Sam act together, throw in how my father and Gimli interact, and then mix it all up with the unruliest class of children you can think of and you'll have how my husband, Elrohir, and Elladan act when they're together."

She nodded understandingly as her face blanched slightly. "Right," he nodded, sounding a little harried. "I'm going to get down there to put out any fires as soon as this evening's nanny arrives. What brings you by?"

"Well, actually, I'm here for the babies," replied Estella hesitantly but hopefully as her eyes strayed momentarily to the side-by-side bassinettes.

"The babies?" repeated Legolas, his brow wrinkling in confusion. Then a surprised and distressed expression spread over his face. "Ai, you're not planning on staying here and skipping the celebration altogether, are you?"

Quickly he gave her a cursory once-over and let out a relieved sigh. "No," he went on before she could talk. "Your garments are much too nice to be wearing them only for an evening of attending babies. But if you're here to help me get them ready, you've wasted a trip. They are already prepared for the evening. I can't wait until they're old enough to attend these sorts of functions, however…"

"I wouldn't miss Eldarion's party for anything and I didn't come to lend you a helping hand," declared Estella with all sincerely as she nervously played with her fingers. "It's just – well, we had, um, a bargain between us, if you will. You fulfilled your part of it almost right away but we never did get around to my part, and I was thinking maybe now…. But I do understand if you don't want to…and it's no trouble if you've forgotten about it…"

Legolas nodded as realization dawned on him. "Ah," he said knowingly. "You're here to fulfill your promise to hold my daughters."

"I understand if it's a bad time," said Estella quickly. "There are so many other things happening tonight and all. You can forget I was even here" –

"Now wait! A bargain is a bargain, my friend," Legolas told her dryly, smiling kindly so that she could see he knew she wasn't trying to get out of her obligations for dishonest reasons. "And your end of ours has been neglected for far too long already. Besides, it feels right that it should happen tonight – the world seems to be renewing itself and giving us all a chance to start fresh once more."

"I hope so," replied Estella evasively.

Shutting the door, Legolas looked into her eyes. "I _know _so," he asserted. He waved one hand, gesturing for her to follow him. "Come, come, Estella! Have a seat in one of the rocking chairs and I'll get an infant for you to hold. You don't mind that they're sleeping, do you? It's a different experience, holding a sleeping baby and a waking one, but it's not a smart thing to do to wake one up…"

"No – oh no, I wouldn't ask that of you," she promised as she trembled slightly. The hobbit lass was a bundle of nerves as it was without having the baby actually looking up at her, perhaps even crying and fussing. While she needed to get used to that eventually it was probably better to ease into the world of holding infants again instead of diving into it headfirst. "It's probably better if they're sleeping anyway."

Gulping audibly she climbed into the nearest chair, quietly thanking Legolas as he held it still for her. Estella settled back, getting a feel for the rocking of the oversized (for her) seat and shifting around again and again until she was satisfied with her position. Finally, she carefully adjusted her arms and let out a deep breath. "All right," she declared shakily, looking over at the elf. "I'm ready; or at least I'm ready as I'll ever be."

"That's good to hear, because so is Meren," smiled Legolas encouragingly as he lifted the sleeping baby girl out of her bassinette. The baby yawned cutely but, thanks to the soft elvish words her ada mumbled into her ear, didn't open her eyes.

Very, very carefully – as if he were approaching a spooked animal – he settled his daughter into the hobbit lass' arms, his hands lingering for a few seconds on those stiff appendages until they'd relaxed enough that he could be certain that Estella could handle holding her. "Well, there she is and there you are," he observed, sitting back on the floor close by, just in case. "How are you feeling?"

Estella had involuntarily squeezed her eyes shut when she saw Legolas picking up the infant, too anxious about what was about to happen to bear actually _watching _it happen. Much like Meren, her eyes had not opened since; not even when her breath caught as she felt the added weight in her arms. There was a _baby _in her arms – the feelings of elation, guilt, regret, hope, mourning, and pride combined until it was impossible to sort out just one of them. She could get used get used to this.

Then the supportive hands on her arms had withdrawn and left her and the baby on their own. That meant that the time had finally come for her to take that last step. Slowly and clumsily she made herself crack open her eyes and look down. The sight of the baby, comfortable and safe enough to be sleeping peacefully in _her _arms, was almost too overwhelming. She had always known it would be an emotional experience to hold a baby again but she never dreamed how cleansing it would be too.

Her face crumpled and she wept, hot tears falling down her cheeks and onto Meren's head. For several moments all speech failed her. "Estella?" urged Legolas in a consciously soothing tone, not sure of what to make of her silence and tears. Was it too much for her? Were those happy tears or sad ones? "What is it? You can tell me how you feel."

"She's absolutely _perfect_," Estella finally sobbed. She shook her head before bending down and kissing the baby's cheek. "Look at her! She's got all of her little fingers and all of her little toes, and look how small her little fingernail and toenails are. They're too precious."

If he hadn't already known it Legolas would have been able to tell right then that Estella was not a parent yet. Yes, those tiny fingernails _were_ adorable, but it was hard for him to call them precious ever since Eldarion first accidentally scratched him with his little fingernails when he was but an infant. Who knew anything so small could be so sharp? "They hardly seem real, don't they?" he asked diplomatically.

"And what a sweet, sweet face she has," Estella continued to gush emotionally. "She looks like a baby doll. And her hair! You know, she looks bald until you get a really close glimpse of her. I used to think that your babies had no hair on them at all but now I see the pale blonde fuzz up there. She has your hair, I believe."

"Then she'll look bald for quite some time," noted Legolas. "According to Ada I certainly did; Laurelin suffered a similar misconception."

"But it wouldn't matter if she were bald or had a head of flowing hair! She's amazing, Legolas, absolutely amazing," Estella gave a tearful laugh and dared to move her fingers enough to stroke Meren's small hand. "I mean, look at her!"

"I see her," said Legolas indulgently, for he wasn't one to disagree with such an astute observation. "I thank Elbereth every day that she and Gilraen are as wonderful as they are."

She nodded at him gratefully before turning her attention back to the baby. "I'm so sorry I wanted this long to make good on my part of the bargain," whispered Estella tearfully and reverently, gasping softly when Meren reflectively gripped her finger in a surprisingly tight hold. "Oh, hello little one! You're the sweetest thing in all the lands, aren't you?"

"Of course!" answered Legolas jovially for his daughter, who was months away from any type of speaking much less speaking up on her own behalf. "All babies are the sweetest things in all the lands to those who love them and those who simply appreciate babies." He glanced down in Meren's innocent face and felt a twinge of regret that one day her innocence would forever be compromised by the realities of the world. "There are times I wish she could stay like this until the ending of the world."

The hobbit lass finally tore her eyes away from the baby again and looked back at him. "So that you'll always have a baby around?" she wondered, not understanding the wistful reasoning behind his wish. Perhaps she would have if something else wasn't so predominant in her mind. "Have you decided them…this is none of my business, really…"

"Go on," permitted Legolas kindly.

"What you just said," stammered Estella in an unreadable tone. "I was just wondering if it meant that you and Aragorn have decided not to have any more children."

This was an issue that Legolas, for all his carefulness and cunning, hadn't really thought of and now that it had been sprung upon him most innocently he couldn't _begin _to imagine how he address it. Stalling for time his eyes drifted of their own accord to the portrait of Aredhel that Elanor drew, which was now framed and hanging on the walls alongside the paintings of Eldarion and Laurelin. Would it even be physically possible for him to have another baby? Yes…yes he at least knew that; he could feel that the potential to bear life was still in his body. But would he _want_ to have another baby or would it feel too much like he was trying to replace his lost daughter? No, there was certainly room in his heart for Aredhel_ and_ more children and he knew that nothing would ever replace her. The real question was if he could face the possibility of losing another child like he lost her; for there always was a possibility that a pregnant person would miscarry and now that he'd felt that pain firsthand it scared him badly. He couldn't imagine living through what he'd just lived through again.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "I've had five children. That is a fine and respectable number, and I don't feel like I'm missing out by not having another one. But…but I don't think I would be unhappy if I was blessed with more. It would just be – difficult and nerve-wracking."

"Oh, I understand," proclaimed Estella emphatically, looking down with a blush. "Boy do I understand."

There was something in her tone that made Legolas study her more closely. Slowly he let the rest of the world fall away as he listened and reached out in his mind. There was…the presence of…so quiet but yet there…. His eyes widened and lit up when he finally put his finger on it. "Why Estella," he breathed, excited for her but also feeling a bit jealous and more than a little melancholy. "You're pregnant!"

"I just found out a couple of days ago," confided Estella. "I told Merry, of course, and he's been even more good to me ever since; but no one else besides you and him knows. I couldn't bring myself to tell Rosie, Diamond, Pippin, and Sam – I know they'd be happy for me and everything, but they'd also start bringing up what happened before and I'm…"

"Estella?" asked Legolas with concern as her eyes squeezed shut again. The hobbit's face was crumpling and he could tell she was trying not to lose control of her emotions. He forced himself to focus solely on her and firmly banished the bittersweet images of Aredhel growing up with this Baby Brandybuck from his mind. His friend needed him to be in the here and now, not off daydreaming about what would never be.

"I'm scared," she admitted quietly. Her eyes fluttered open when she felt Legolas come up to her once more and comfortingly grip her arms. If there was anyone in that citadel who could understand how she felt it would be him; it was nice (in a horrible way) to finally have someone around who could truly know what she'd gone through. "I want this baby to be born and healthy so terribly and I need that so badly I'm scared. What if I lose this one like I lost the last one? What if I'm not meant to be a mother and it's the Valar, or whoever the Men around here are always talking about, that took my first one away before he or she was born?"

Legolas shook his head and looked at her intensely. "That's not it," he stated firmly. "It is stress, illness, accidents, or simply plain bad luck that makes someone lose a baby, not Elbereth, any other Valar, or Eru. You're pregnant now, my friend, and that means that motherhood is not being denied to you."

She turned her imploring eyes on him. "I've heard – I've heard that some elves have the gift of foresight," she said hopefully. "Aragorn says that you're one of them. Can you look into the future or whatever and tell me if everything's going to be all right?"

"No," said Legolas simply, for that was the only answer he had. "The foresight Aragorn says I have comes across as feelings and instincts I get. I was never taught how to harness it for any real use. Besides, even those who have learned to use their foresight effectively rarely know what the future may hold. It's best not to ask for images of the future and plan your life around them, Estella, for all too often they are only fragments and misleading at that. In the end all we can – and should – do is what is our best, have faith that things will work out, be grateful when they do, and figure out how to live through it when they don't."

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Eldarion's birthday celebration was just getting into full swing and it was already a smashing success. Many factors contributed to this. First of all the boy was turning thirteen, a special age for Gondorians and cause for a little added cheer. There was also the fact that Legolas had managed to arrive in the feasting hall just in time to swiftly handle the big mess Aragorn and his brothers had created with the refreshments, an incident that would be known among the extended royal family as the Great Fruit Drink Disaster. Finally, news had traveled quickly throughout Middle-earth about the recent trials of the Gondorian royal family and how the crown prince had proved his bravery and worth. In response to that leaders from all over the lands, for selfless and more calculating reasons, had spared no expense in honoring the boy. They had poured into the city, sending representatives or coming themselves, or at least sent extravagantly ornate presents (Aragorn noted with more than a little wistfulness that a great majority of the gifts were weapons and wares for a young Man rather than toys for a little boy). Inside the great feasting all people of all ages were milling about, conversing, laughing, eating, and generally enjoying themselves.

As for the crown prince himself Eldarion had done his duty by mingling with a majority of his guests early on and saw no reason to be guilty or ashamed for finally settling in to spend some time with his sister and slew of 'cousins'. There they sat, chattering away in too many different conversations to keep track of, until the musicians had completed setting up in their designated corner. When all was ready, the conductor glanced at the king, who nodded.

"Attention! Attention, please!" Aragorn announced. The room quieted as all eyes turned to their monarch. "It is time for the first dance. As is tradition, the floor will only belong to the guest of honor and his chosen partner during the first song. Eldarion, are you ready?"

"I am," said Eldarion, rising to his feet. Normally everyone would be wondering who the guest of honor was going to choose but with the prince it was no big secret. When he was much younger he would just reluctantly grab the hand of the nearest family member just to get the embarrassing situation over with; but as he got older he'd been selecting a put-upon Findowyn for years. They saw no reason why this would change now.

There were surprised murmurs abound, then, when he took his little sister's hand and led her to the dance floor. "The first dance, Laurelin, just like I promised," he smiled at her as she carefully stepped up onto his feet.

She didn't have time to answer before the music started and he began to guide them around the dance floor but her response was plain for everyone to see. Their fathers especially would never forget the expression of sheer joy on Laurelin's face as she smiled up with so much admiration at her big brother. That moment more than anything else confirmed and solidified in Legolas and Aragorn's minds the depth of the new bond between their two eldest children.

The song ended and everyone applauded soundly for the prince and princess. They'd expected that things would go back to normal after that but the boy continued to surprise them. Eldarion kept his current dance partner for the next song and the song after that, until their parents finally broke in. Very smoothly Aragorn scooped Laurelin into his arms and Legolas took her place with a clearly embarrassed Eldarion. It was nice for the elf – in a malicious sort of way, of course – to know that no matter how brave and valiant his Little Acorn got he still had the power to mortify the boy.

"What?" he asked innocently when the boy cleared his throat for the countless time. "Are you too old and stalwart to dance with your ada?"

"Well, no," admitted Eldarion. "But couldn't you at least let me lead? It is my birthday after all."

"You act as if you did all the work it took to birth you," teased Legolas, laughing easily when his son's face flushed. "Oh relax, Eldarion! It's not a bad thing to follow every once and awhile. At the very least it will keep your head from swelling up too much."

The boy endured (and secretly enjoyed) his ada's attention and teasing until the string melody finished and then tried to snatch Laurelin back. His fathers were too quick for him, however: Legolas managed to deftly pluck his daughter from Aragorn's arms while gently propelling Eldarion toward the Man before Eldarion even realized what was happening. "Papa," he complained when he found himself being led around the dance floor once again.

"What?" asked Aragorn, sounding so much like Legolas that Eldarion wondered how much his parents had planned this in advance. "Are you too grown-up to give me just one little dance? Well, that's too bad, for I am your king and I can command you to do as say."

"I don't mean it like that," protested Eldarion in exasperation. "It's just that I made a promise to Laurelin that we would dance together a lot tonight."

"And it's very sweet and admirable that you're so devoted to keeping your word to her," replied Aragorn lightly. He faked a few silly steps that made his son's cheeks burn even more while briefly drawing the curiosity of those around them. "But there are other people around here who want both of your company. Surely your sister hasn't claimed _all_ of the dances. Do you not wish to dance with someone, ah, closer to your age?"

Eldarion snuck a peek over his papa's shoulder at Findowyn. The pretty girl was speaking to her parents while – could she be watching him out of the corner of her eye? "I shouldn't bother her," he said with forced casualness, not bothering to clarify who 'her' was. "She's probably relieved I haven't pestered her for a dance yet. I was so annoying for so long and now it's just embarrassing to remember that. No wonder she thinks I'm too young for her."

"My son," said Aragorn warmly, wisely, and patiently. "I was ten-years-old when I met your ada; he was nearly three millennia old. I spent the summer he visited following him everywhere. My brothers called that pestering but he saw it differently."

"It's not the same," said Eldarion morosely. "You two are…and Findowyn and I…"

"Eldarion, we did not become a couple right then and there," Aragorn clarified. "That time was about building a bond that we could build our future on, but that future was long off. He left and then it was another eleven years before we saw each other again. We became a couple then, but it was _another _sixty-six years before we could spend any _real_ time together and get married. Love isn't a race, Eldarion. Things aren't better if you achieve them faster and the first one to get married doesn't win. Love like that takes understanding, commitment, and a willingness to work things out when all seems lost. And _that's _worth taking the time to build and wait for."

Aragorn did another impromptu move, turning them until they switched positions and Eldarion could no longer see Findowyn. "But at least Ada _liked _you," stressed the boy miserably. "She finds me so obnoxious."

"Don't be so sure," replied Aragorn with a secretive smile before raising his head and grinning broadly at a point beyond Eldarion. "Good evening, Findowyn."

"Good evening," the girl responded as Eldarion spun around and tried not to gape. "I'm sorry to intrude but I'd like to talk to Eldarion for a minute when he has the time."

"He has the time right now," said Aragorn jovially, firmly pushing his son to her. "And you can even dance with him. Have fun, children."

Eldarion was more than nervous as he put one hand on her waist and took hers in the other and led the steward's daughter around the dance floor in a graceful if stiff manner. Something like her actually asking him to dance was so unprecedented he could barely clear his mind of questions enough to dance, let alone to talk. "Uh, you're a good dancer," he finally offered lamely.

"I expected you to come ask me to dance awhile ago," she told him. "That's what you usually do at these parties."

"I didn't want to disturb you," explained Eldarion a little self-consciously. "I know you find me quite tiresome at times."

"Yes – when you're popping out of bushes to attack your sister and acting like an immature jerk," she replied almost defensively. "But…but when you're acting like you have been lately you become tolerable. You've changed so much, Eldarion; there's a very decent chance you're going to turn out to be a rather good man. You're already…all right…for a child."

That was the nicest unsolicited thing she'd ever said to him. "Thank you," beamed the boy.

Eldarion continued to dance throughout the night, occasionally taking on new partners but mainly sticking with Laurelin and Findowyn. The bond he'd forged with his sister would remain strong for the rest of their days, through growing up, marriages, children, their parents leaving the world, and beyond. As for his other partner, it would take another five years before Eldarion would come of age and begin courting Findowyn in earnest. Another four years would pass while he fulfilled his mandatory duty to Gondor's army before they would get married in the same courtyard that his parents' wedding took place in. But that was all right because his papa was right – a love like that was always worth the weight.

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Legolas rejoined Aragorn after sending Laurelin on her way over to where the hobbit children and Theomir had put together an odd sort of makeshift game. Glancing knowing at his son and Findowyn as they moved around the dance floor he smirked at his husband. "Playing matchmaker, I see," the elf observed.

"Once upon a time a wise and nosy wizard named Mithrandir gave a devastated little boy the encouragement to hold onto his wildest dreams of love," said Aragorn with a nostalgic sigh. "I'm just carrying on that tradition. And tonight's the night for wildest dreams – have you heard the news about Estella and Merry?"

"Yes, and I think it's wonderful," grinned Legolas, gazing over to where the rest of his family was gathered. Merry had his arm around his wife, looking quite thrilled as Sam, Rosie, Pippin, and Diamond chattered excitedly. Thranduil, Gimli, Faramir, and especially Eowyn were congratulating them and Elladan and Elrohir appeared to be desperately trying to get a word in edgewise. "The twins seem to be worked up about something more than just happiness and congratulations. Are they dispensing advice?"

"They're discussing some options with her and Merry," replied Aragorn. "She told them about what happened…before and they're more determined to help her in any way they can. She and Merry will have to decide whether it would be prudent for her to travel all the way back to the Shire and when she should leave if she does that; if it's best she stay in the city until the baby is born; or if she could go halfway and have the baby in Rivendell. She's – anxious, but I think having two highly qualified healers at her disposal is doing wonders to calm her."

"Good," said Legolas sincerely.

He was about to say something more when the unofficial family gathering beyond them broke up and everyone milled over to the dance floor except for Thranduil and Gimli, who made their way over to the royal couple. "This is a wonderful night," declared Thranduil brightly, embracing his son and son-in-law briefly. "I can feel our lives renewing. Do you not agree, Gimli?"

"Yes, renewing," chimed in Gimli a little too heartily. "Definitely renewing."

Legolas frowned. "Have you two been drinking to excess?"

"Never!" denied Thranduil with a mischievous grin. "Dear Meriadoc and Estella are expecting a baby and Elladan and Elrohir have been giving them a lot to think about, but now it is time for some fun. Gimli and I just realized that we have not set tongues wagging with the 'are-they-or-are-they-not' gossip that these Men find so entertaining. We intend to remedy that right now. To the dance floor, master dwarf!"

Aragorn watched in amazement as they waltzed off. "That is either the most discreet affair ever or else the most unholy alliance in history," he commented. "Any thoughts on which one it is?"

"None," sighed Legolas dramatically. "I'm far too distracted by the fact that my father and Gimli are dancing; as are my son and Findowyn, Sam and Rosie, Merry and Estella, Pippin and Diamond, and Faramir and Eowyn. Why, even Elladan and Elrohir have found two unfortunate ladies to dance with! Yet I am not. I need to find a handsome, wonderful, and brave Man that I love who can help me fix that." He eyed Aragorn with exaggerated appraisal. "Say, you'll do. Would you like to dance?"

"Always," said Aragorn, lovingly taking his hand. As they joined the other dancers and swayed a little too close to be considered formal a happy peace came over them. They didn't know what joys and trials the future would hold for them but Legolas and Aragorn were strong individually and stronger still together. As long as they loved and held true to each other they knew they'd already passed half of any test that lay ahead for them.

The end.

_A/N: This is it – thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed. I can't say I'm entirely happy with how this story came along; if I could do it all over again I would have waited longer before writing and posting so that all the ideas I had would have had time to grow and congeal. But I think it's a nice way to conclude the story arc of the "What…" series. While I might write some one-shots in that universe in the future I don't think there will be another long story like this in there again. Once again, thank you for reading and reviewing – I really appreciate it._


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